Paths in Sakura
by Niana Kuonji
Summary: A collection of oneshots for the game Okami. Not limited to Ammy, Issun or Waka, but will tend to lean in their direction. No Mary Sues, they get fed to Orochi. Skips around the timeline. Summaries posted with each piece. CONTAINS SPOILERS.
1. Chapter 1

Hello! Welcome to the first of a series of oneshots drawn from the game Okami! They will vary in length and subject, and are mostly me having fun with the things they don't tell you or are different in perspective from the game. This first one features how it all got started, a little over two hundred years prior to the beginning of Okami.

Disclaimer: I don't own Okami except for merchandise. If I did, I'd still be writing fanfiction, except I'd be making money off of it and it would be canon.

———

Four days.

That's all it had taken for a quiet, peaceful land to become a place of fear and danger. To the residents of a tiny village at the northern end of the main trade routes, it had only taken four days for their lives to be taken over.

Four days ago, a monster had come tumbling out of the sky, roaring hatred and vengeance and defiance to the gods. It had landed with a resounding splash near the edge of the great Lake Harami, sending up a huge wall of water that had eaten away large chunks of the cliff-sides and flooded a large feeder stream all the way to its' source in Hana Valley. Upon recovering whatever shreds it had of dignity, the monster had proceeded to take up residence in the nearby Moon Caves. Immediately following, imps had begun appearing all over the bordering Shinshu Field and amongst the sakura trees of Kamiki Village.

There was already signs that the monster would demand of the poor villagers some sort of sacrifice. The darker ones whispered that it would be a sacrifice of blood and flesh.

It had taken four days for all the nearby heroes and warriors out to make names for themselves to arrive—only to fall to the beast's eight heads and ravenous appetite. There was no word of another brave or insane enough to try.

It had been four days since some witnesses had told of a white brilliance that had fallen to earth along with the dreaded Orochi, howling its' own defiance as it ripped into the mountainous body of its' foe. No one knew what it was, nor had it been seen it since.

What news that could be passed from the ice-locked northern lands told even grimmer tales. A great metal ship had crashed into the lake at the foot of Mount Ezofuji, and those who had fled from those lands had spoken in hushed tones of the flood of demons that had come pouring out. The northern lands were already sealing themselves off, determined to keep the plague of trouble from killing the rest of Nippon.

To the man staggering out of a door of a passage leading from the frozen North, those four days had been an eternity. One that he'd paid every dawn for in his own blood and the blood of his foes.

Not that he could even see the sun. Storm clouds had shrouded the skies in robes of mourning for all that had been lost in the last four days, tongues of lightning the shouts of the grief-torn kami. The skies wept for them—and for himself, who had had no time to shed tears for those who'd fallen around him.

He hurt. Oh, gods, he _hurt_. What small part of his mind that wasn't numb or hyper-focused on the two instincts of 'fight' and 'flee' catalogued several cracked ribs, pulled muscles in every limb and in his shoulders, what was probably a concussion, and scores of bleeding wounds all over his body. In one hand, clenched in a death-grip, was a hilt and two inches of blade that had, until yesterday, been one of his swords. The other had been left sunk into the ground on the shores of Laochi Lake as a seal to the ship he'd barely managed to escape from.

And he was the _lucky_ one. He alone, of all the people on board, had survived. The rest had been devoured by the hordes upon hordes of demons that had been lurking in the bowels of his ship, waiting. They'd attacked when it had been too late for him to turn the ship around or to do much of anything but fight to save the refugees he'd meant to take to safety.

In the end, he'd been driven from his ship into the cold and the dark. Why, _why_ hadn't any of his tribe _told_ him what that ship was? _Why_ had they let him pilot it to the Celestial Plain, knowing as he did now that the depths of it had been filled with _monsters_?

Lightning spat from the storm above him, nipping at his heels as he passed from earthen-work tunnel to open air. He yelped, dove forward, and heard a rather final-sounding rasp as the door he'd emerged from ground shut.

No returning then. Not that he'd really wanted to.

His feet took him downslope from the sealed door—and then informed him that he was walking on empty air and should turn his ass back around right now. The ground cheerfully informed his abused body a moment later that he was too late and that resting was probably a good idea.

But he couldn't rest. Not until he found _her_. The reason he hadn't just laid down and died back in Kamui. The one who deserved to know that everything had been _his_ fault.

The problem was, at the moment, was that his body was agreeing with the ground and was refusing to move. He couldn't even raise his head more than an inch or two. And either the fall or pure exhaustion was making it impossible for him to focus on anything past his nose…which, now that he was thinking about it, was smack-dab in the middle of a bunch of flowers. Did not moving include not sneezing?

Kami, he hoped so. Sneezing would really hurt right now.

There came the sounds of footsteps—several pairs of them—and shadows fell across the fallen man. Any hope for help died at the croaking tones of a gaggle of imps. "Wow, that was a pretty good fall. Wasn't it, guys?" At least half a dozen sounds of agreement echoed around him; sheer contrariness forced him to at least _try_ to make an effort to rise. He'd killed hundreds of these things in the past ninety-six hours and he absolutely refused to be killed lying down.

Pain shot up his arm when he stuck what was left of his only sword into the ground and levered himself up. He ignored it. The world spun as he at last attained his footing. He ignored that too. But he couldn't ignore the way that his vision kept fogging into a strange grayness from the edges inwards. Not when everything went gray the second he moved to take a step forward.

Amidst mocking laughter, a clawed foot planted itself on his chest and pushed. He strangled a cry as his balance was lost and once again his body met the ground.

"Look, pal," said the imp from before—though damned if the man could focus that far—while it leaned on the foot it had on the fighter's bloodied chest. "Me'n the guys can see you're tired. You look like someone dragged you through every circle of Hell and took a trip through Master Orochi's teeth for the fun of it. We respect that. So you see, it's nothing personal that we're gonna eat you."

His throat was too sore from screaming during battles he barely remembered to do more than squeak, but even so, he had pride enough to curve his lips into a faint smile and whisper, "Of course not, _mon amí._ I feel I should warn you, though…"

The imp leaned closer, too distracted by the smell of blood to notice what had made the man smile. "'Bout what?"

A heavy gust of wind slapped the faces of the imps with the scents of a sun-drenched field of wildflowers as a battle-howl filled the air. The man's smile managed to grow a little. "That I'm not the one you should be wary of."

The weight on the fallen man's chest disappeared with a whoosh and the sound of flesh meeting flesh. Snarls rang out, accompanied by frenzied shouts of 'Crap! It's that crazy wolf! Run for it!' And though the warrior couldn't see, the sounds he heard following could only be described as imps being booted off the mortal coil at warp speed.

Exhaustion pried at his tenuous grip on awareness; will-power alone was keeping his eyes open, for all the good it did him. All he could see when the noises of the fight died away was a pure white shape that moved into his field of view on silent feet. The scent of flowers was all around him now as the shape approached. It brought to mind moments of safety and comfort, of days spent doing nothing but cloud-gazing.

And it undid him.

The drive that had kept him going shuddered at the completion of its' goal. He had found _her_. He could rest now. Without a moment's hesitation oblivion swept him under.

_:Waka? WAKA!:_

———

Waka awoke with a jolt and a hiss of pain that the movement had brought. And now he really couldn't see anything. Just black. The only thing that saved him from panic was the rich aroma of hundreds of flowers that kept wafting past his nose to the beat of a dog's tail.

"Amaterasu?"

_:Here.:_

Something moved nearby; Waka felt a presence come closer, but the smell that came from whoever it was wasn't of flowers, but of fish. The fighter felt his nose wrinkle at the pungency of it. "I'll be damned," a rough, gnarled voice said from less than three feet away. "Yer still alive. Thought fer sure ye'd croak when the mutt brought ye home. Ne'er seed anyone that bad hurt afore."

Kindness was obvious despite the gruff tone, easing a little of the tension that had strung Waka's body at the approach of a stranger. He moved his head, still seeking. "Amaterasu?" he asked again.

_:I am here. You are safe, Waka.:_

"You sound strange, _ma chērie_."

Amusement tinged with sadness filled that beloved voice. _:I was wondering if you were going to insist calling me by name. There's nothing wrong with your ears, dear one. It is only that I cannot speak as I did back home.:_

"It's dark, _ma petite._ Am I blind?"

The stranger snorted in unison with Amaterasu. "No."

_:No more so than anyone who has bandages around their eyes:_ elaborated Amaterasu, _:who is also in a fisherman's hut with no windows. The man's name is Genji. He has helped me take care of you.:_

Waka heard Genji move, this time away from him and back towards the crackling of a fire. "Huh. I figgered ye weren't no ordinary beastie when I found ye," the fisherman said casually. Waka felt himself bristle at the insult to Amaterasu. "Guess I was right, if'n yer stray c'n hear ye."

"_Don't call her that_," hissed Waka, groping for a sword he knew perfectly well was no longer anywhere within reach. "I'll gut you where you stand for calling her a beast!"

Something heavy and warm abruptly weighed him down and licked at his cheek with a wet tongue. _:Oh, yes. Because you're in wonderful shape right now:_ huffed Amaterasu's voice, now much closer than before. The dog's tail thumped the floor by his leg. The aroma of flowers surrounded him.

"Boy, ye can't e'en gut a fish right now, shape yer in," Genji replied with perfect calm. "I meant no insult. Ye know that, don't ye, lass?" The dog's tail thumped again. Waka tried to wriggle and found that he'd already spent what strength he had; the dog wasn't going to be getting off his chest unless it chose to. "Now, why don't ye tell me who ye think she is afore ye get all fired up."

Waka took a deep breath through his nose and let it out slowly. "She is Amaterasu-o-kami, origin of all that is good and mother to us all."

"Funny ye should call her 'o-kami'," Genji's voice mused. "'Cause from where I'm sittin', and it ain't very far away, all I see is a wolf."

Waka's world screeched to a halt for the second time in a week. Had it been a week? "Amaterasu?" he squeaked, raising a hand that weighed a million pounds.

_:Here:_ came that precious voice again as a broad, furry head insinuated itself beneath shaking fingers. _:I am here. It's alright, Waka. Breathe.:_

Right. Breathing. Breathing was important. He couldn't have a proper fit if he asphyxiated. His fingers buried themselves in thick fur on their own accord as his friend moved from lying atop him to curled beside him. The movement nudged his fingers to a spot just behind one silk-furred ear. Hysteria threatened to rise when he realized that he was giving the goddess of the sun an ear-scratching.

"I would like the bandages off. Now."

Her tail thumped him reprovingly in the leg. _:Waka.:_

He clenched his teeth. "Please."

The broad head beneath his hand moved up, sliding his limb back onto his chest with a tiny, weak thud. _:Genji?:_

Although the fisherman had admitted that he couldn't hear Amaterasu, his presence came near anyway, and Waka felt fingers rough from hard work begin to unwind his blindfold. A hand, surprisingly gentle, cradled the base of his skull as loop after loop was taken away.

The firelight made bright blue eyes blink when they were revealed. Waka turned his head slightly to look up into the wind-seamed, weather-burned face of the man who must be Genji. Black eyes studied him back with equal intensity—but no, Waka realized a breath later, he was checking the state of the injuries Waka must have had inflicted upon his face and head. "_Bonjour,_" Waka greeted him softly. "I am Waka. Once of the Tribe of the Moon."

_:Once?:_ inquired Amaterasu from her place beside him. Her canine head moved into view, a crimson circle marked by two straight flares running from it up towards her ears and down between her golden eyes. More crimson marked her eyelids and the edges of the sockets beneath them. For all the fur, it was quite easy for Waka to decipher the worry in her expression.

As Genji moved away again, Amaterasu rose until she was sitting, her head leaning over him to stare down into his face. Waka nodded. "_Oui._ Was. They had to have known, _ma chērie. _They had to have known what the ship carried, there was no way they didn't. They let me bring the ship to your home. I cannot be a part of a race so callous that they sentenced you to this."

Beyond them, Genji took in the scene of goddess and warrior and deemed the conversation to be too personal for a pair of old ears like his. He quietly took himself outside with a muttered excuse that he needed to check on his nets, giving the two much-welcomed privacy.

With a flick of a silken ear, Amaterasu began washing the few lingering scrapes and cuts with her tongue, an indignity that Waka bore without complaint. For all he knew, she still had the ability to 'kiss hurts and make them better' that she'd had when they'd romped on the Celestial Plain. _:Waka, what happened?:_ she asked him, voice unaffected by her ministrations. _:I know what happened to me when that over-grown eel and I splashed down, but what happened to _you_? Where are the others?:_

Tears pricked at his eyes and began sliding down into his hair; the goddess licked them away too as her friend drew a shaky breath. "Gone, great mother. All of them."

The tongue froze mid-lick.

Waka went on, the dam of his thoughts broken by those words. "We were halfway between the Plain and Nippon when the demons poured out of the bowels of the ship. I didn't know what was going on until I heard the screaming. When I rushed from the control room I found _thousands_ of them flooding the corridors, the halls, _everywhere._ The Celestials were screaming, trying to fight back." Waka closed his eyes, the tears falling faster as his body began to wrack itself with the sobs he would not free. Not yet. "But your people were no fighters, beloved. I tried. _I tried._ I lost count of how many demons I have slain these past few days. I got a few of the Celestials behind me, against a wall, but we were overwhelmed. The demons pulled me away. The ship crashed into a lake and, I swear to you, _more_ of them came out of nowhere. I don't know how the ship ever held them all."

Unnoticed, Amaterasu's tongue began its' slow strokes again.

"I found others of your children. They were beset on all sides. I went in, pulled them, drove them in front of me for the exit hatch. We…we almost made it before another wave took them all. I…I think…I fell, then, or the rainbow bridge managed to drop me near the shore. The next thing I knew I was knee-deep in icy water and still fighting for my life."

The sobs were starting to break through. He heaved a breath and got the rest out as fast as he could. "I locked the ship to keep the worst ones contained. Went south. Followed roads covered in snow. So cold. Demons at every step. My sword broke. I fought. Had to find you, had to know. Know you, at least, were safe. Great mother. _I am so sorry._"

A nose black as a night without stars nudged his cheek gently in an attempt to comfort. And it did, a little, but not enough to hold back the grief that had finally been loosed. Waka's arms curled around him to try and protect his ribs from the force of his sobs, Amaterasu a patient warmth where his body had curved around her.

And so Waka wept.

It took what felt like hours before he collapsed back into unconsciousness, the exhaustion of fighting for four days straight still taking their toll. Amaterasu made sure that he was well and truly out of it before she unwound herself from her place beside him and padded outside. Genji sat on a rock on the beach just yards away, smoking a pipe and looking out over the water. The Moon Cave was a dark lump towards their right, the sounds of the great monster within carrying faintly over the lake to them.

Genji looked over at her. Tapped his pipe against his foot and nodded. "I'll watch."

Bowing her head for a moment to her newfound friend, Amaterasu slipped away, a drift of moonlight on mist, until she was well out of sight. A minute or so later a disconsolate howl rose in heartbroken song over night-cloaked Shinshu Field.

———

Waka hobbled out into the sunlight, squinting at the brightness of it as Genji helped him sit down on the crude wooden bench just outside of the fisherman's hut. His body had been slow in recovery the past two weeks, but it had picked up remarkable speed when Amaterasu had started bringing home bones wrapped in bits of paper folded like lightning bolts. She'd insisted that they be added to the nightly soup, and neither man had had the heart to deny her.

The wolf and the warrior had been very subdued, and with good reason, Genji had thought to himself. It wasn't every day that your world was brought crumbling down. He'd go to sleep, sometimes, hearing the strange, one-sided conversations that Waka would have with Amaterasu.

The fisherman could see, sometimes, if he squinted right and trusted hard, the crimson markings that the blond man had told him were there. And sometimes he could see the great disc the wolf carried on her back, trailing green-licked flames, if the light was good and he wasn't thinking about much. He couldn't see the tendrils of power that Waka swore to him were always trailing from Amaterasu's back. His faith in the gods wasn't strong enough, Genji supposed.

Still. It was hard _not_ to believe in gods when he'd see animals—everything from mice, to rabbits, to deer with kingly racks of antlers—come up to the huge wolf without the faintest trace of fear. If she held still enough, sparrows and little green birds Waka had said were called nightingales would land on her and chirp whole conversations before flitting off again.

She was faster than anything he'd ever seen, too. If he stood on the bridge that spanned the waterfall and gorge between the beach and the path that led past the Moon Cave to the ferry, he could watch her blaze from one end of Shinshu to another, rending Demon Scrolls and the evils within them as fast as they formed.

Speak of the goddess…Genji watched her bolt down the wooden steps that led to his modest spit of beach and his hut, claws making far less racket than they should until she came to a four-point landing in front of them.

"_Ma chērie_?" Waka inquired, breathless from the effort the brief walk had taken. "What…?" And then she lifted her great head, revealing an ordinary flute caught gently in her teeth. She placed it in Waka's lap and danced sideways until she could press against him, head resting against his side with his arm draped across her shoulders.

Waka hadn't known where Amaterasu had gone this morning. She'd only promised that she'd return as soon as she could and had raced off, in higher spirits than he'd seen her in since their fall. Now his beloved goddess had snuggled herself against him and was watching him take a look at her present. It was made of some light wood, polished and carved with a simple motif of sakura near the mouthpiece. And yet…somehow it _purred_ under his touch with a feeling of hidden power.

_:I had Kabe, Tachi, and Yumi help me make it:_ Amaterasu told him eagerly, _:to replace the sword you broke.:_

Waka blinked. He'd met the lesser gods known as the Brush gods during his visits to the mourned Celestial Plain. His precious Amaterasu had just referred to the gods of the techniques that allowed Amaterasu to leap up walls, slash through enemies, and change the skies from day to night, respectively. They'd tolerated him as someone from the Moon Tribe, but he'd earned their respect as time had passed. He was glad that they were unharmed. But he didn't understand what he was being given. "Amaterasu?"

_:Pass your hand along it. Will it to bite: _he was instructed. When he did so, the flute changed. As his hand moved along its length, the flute grew heavy and solid in his grasp, a glowing blade following his hand until he held a thrumming sword. _:Kabegami made its' nature hidden, a claw that sheathes in velvet. Tachigami gave it its' bite. And Yumigami made it able to change itself to be what you need.: _Her tail whacked against the foot of the bench. _:Gekigami and Moegami wanted to add in a few surprises for the demons, too, but the Hanagami trio and Yomigami yelled them down. I don't remember the last time I saw those two sulk.:_

Despite his blanket of grief and the ache of healing wounds, Waka found himself laughing as he moved the arm across her shoulders until he held her in a half-hug. "Thank you, _ma chērie_," he told her, his first smile in weeks stretching across his face. "I will treasure this. And thank the others for me, will you? Even Gekigami and Moegami, for I am sure that their ideas would have been useful."

_"Hmph,"_ echoed a masculine voice from above them. _"We added one thing between us, anyway."_ Looking up, the three on the ground discovered Moegami the phoenix perched on the edge of the roof, in a much smaller form but with his pipe still roiling smoke in his beak. _"That sword will fling a copy of itself, glowing hot, when you will it to. You need something long range to keep your fragile skin more intact."_

Nettled a bit by the slur to two-leggers, Waka nevertheless bowed as best as he could to the Brush god of flames. "That makes good hearing, _mon amí._ You and the others have my deepest thanks."

Moegami rustled his wings, pleased, and vanished, leaving Genji to stare at the place he'd been. Waka changed his new sword back into the shape of a flute and blew softly across the mouthpiece. A low, quiet note rewarded him, letting him know that, for all intents and purposes, it really _was_ a flute until the blade was needed.

He hugged Amaterasu again, both arms this time. "Thank you, Amaterasu. I was uneasy with no sword at hand."

The white wolf leaned harder into him, tail thumping the dirt. _:I know. And when you are well, you and I will go to Orochi and finish what we started.:_

Waka started to agree when foresight, the ability he'd cursed and blessed the gods for all his life, slammed into him for the first time in weeks. He clung now to Amaterasu, dizzy with the images being flung at him until they released him, gasping, back to the present. The sun goddess merely waited with her infinite patience as he gathered himself back together and straightened. Genji was watching them both warily—it was obvious that he'd never seen a prophet go into a vision before. Probably thought Waka had had some kind of fit.

One hand clenching his new sword, Waka took a deep breath. "I will not be the one fighting beside you, Amaterasu." He felt her stiffen against him. "Orochi can only be defeated with the power of the Chosen One. I don't know when he'll be born, but you will find him one day in the village of Kamiki. It will be his destiny to bring down the serpent with your aid. It may be a long time," he finished in a hushed voice, "but our enemy will fall."

Placing one paw on the sliver of bench beside Waka's hip, Amaterasu rose until she could lick his cheek. _:Then you and I will wait and watch. No matter how long it takes.:_

The healing warrior tangled his fingers in the long fur of her ruff, silken hair that made snow look gray casting a faint glow across his skin. "Yes. I will wait with you. However long it takes."

Genji looked at them both and flung up hands gnarled from years of working nets. "Yer both crazy," he declared. "To e'en go against that thing _once_ is suicide! But to want to go _twice_?" They only looked at him steadily, the goddess-as-a-wolf and the self-declared-exile, and didn't say a word. Genji flung his hands up again and stomped off, muttering about crazy people and the things they'd do.

Watching him leave, Amaterasu's tail stirred the dust once, then fell still.

———

The wolf and the warrior settled into their new lives in Nippon. Waka was no longer the light-hearted creature that he had been, though he tried to keep his cheer up around Amaterasu, at least. The goddess, while she missed the use of her hands as a maiden, seemed to prefer her shape as a wolf. She told Waka sometimes that it made approaching people easier. They weren't nearly so wary of an ordinary white wolf as they would be a maiden of unearthly beauty.

Don't let anyone tell you that wolves don't have expressions. Waka nearly laughed himself sick at the moue of distaste Amaterasu had worn when she'd said that.

Deprived of their simple lives, Amaterasu took to exploring while Waka learned the trade of fishing from Genji. The prophet's companion would sometimes spend days away, coming back brimming with tales of the folk that she'd met and the help that she'd given them. She was still mourning the loss of her children, the Celestials, but the goddess had always taken a deep pleasure in simply living, so her spirits grew high far faster than Waka's.

Then, one day, while Waka was mending nets while Genji was at the market in Kamiki, Amaterasu came back from one of her journeys with unexpected news and a new companion. The prophet's first warning of her approach were the sounds of her rapid pawsteps in her blazing sprint. Just before she appeared at the tops of the stairs leading to the tops of the cliffs, a tiny voice was heard yelling in exhilaration.

Down Amaterasu came in a series of her flying leaps, landing with a puff of thistledown seeds. Her jaws were agape in her biggest smile. Her tail was up and wagging. And clinging to the red-touched fur between her ears was a glowing, golden mote no bigger than Waka's thumb.

"Geez," panted a squeaky voice that was distinctly male, and obviously young, "what a ride!"

"_Ma chērie_," greeted Waka calmly, though he itched to know about their guest, "back from Sei-an already?"

Amaterasu danced up to him, head held high. _:It was amazing, Waka! A whole city built right on this enormous lake! I met so many people!:_

"And brought home another, I see," Waka replied, looking at the tiny mote. It let go of Amaterasu's fur and bounced along her muzzle until it could leap onto the hand automatically held out to catch it. When the prophet brought it to his face, he could barely make out the form of a handsome youth, dressed in clothing and a beetle-shell rain-hat in the same colors as his glow. "_Bonjour._"

"Good afternoon," replied the tiny youth, bowing. He sounded a bit breathless, still, but Waka couldn't blame him. Amaterasu's speed truly was breathtaking at its height. "I'm Ishaku, a painter. I met your lady in Sei-an where I was working."

Waka felt a real smile stretch his lips at the polite exasperation emanating from their minute guest. Really, Ishaku could not be larger than Waka's thumb but he had all the manners of a properly-reared young lord. "Good afternoon, Ishaku. My name is Waka. Amaterasu rather has that effect on people, I'm afraid. What _do_ you have in mind for him, _ma chērie_?"

The white wolf sat herself down beside the prophet, stretching until her head rested on his knee. _:I thought he'd make a good Celestial Envoy:_ Amaterasu admitted. _:His paintings are quite good, and people need to know that the gods haven't forgotten them. What do you think?:_

"I bow ever to your wisdom, dear one. Ishaku, can you hear Amaterasu?"

The young man tilted his head a little to the side, hand resting on the handle of a paintbrush that was…Waka squinted a little…somehow the hilt of a _katana_. Interesting. The brush is as mighty as the sword, perhaps? "Not really," Ishaku replied after a moment's thought. "But I read her pretty well. She doesn't exactly hide her emotions."

The white plume of a tail whacked the dirt cheerfully. _:He hears me:_ she told her friend. _:He just doesn't _realize_ that he's hearing me. His people are called 'Poncles' by the way. He told me that he's a traveling artist, but that his home is in Kamui, in a forest near Wep'keer. Can you imagine? A whole village that fits into a tree-stump!:_

"Truly amazing, _ma chērie_," Waka agreed, feeling his heart thump crazily at the thought of those poor, plagued lands. How badly were they suffering beneath the flood of _youkai_ unleashed from his accursed ship? Were the worst ones still imprisoned? Was _he_ still caged? "Tell me, Ishaku, if you can. How fares Kamui? I was…rather incoherent, when I last saw it."

There was no mistaking: the tiny artist's glow dimmed. "It's bad," Ishaku stated. "There's been a lot of problems caused by the crash-landing of something they're calling the Ark of Yamato. I've heard stories from some people who saw the leading edge of the hordes of demons that came from it. They say that it could have been a lot worse if there hadn't been something that was going through the demons like a lightning bolt."

Waka's heart went from double-time to nearly stopping. He winced. All this excitement wasn't good for him. He was getting too old for this. As if sensing his thoughts, Amaterasu leaned harder against his leg until his free hand dropped to bury itself in her ruff.

Ishaku continued, barely noticing the silent exchange. "No one's agreeing on what it was, though. Popular opinion's tied at it being an amazing warrior or a god. But whatever or whoever it was, a good fifth of the invasion force we think was just plain out dropped in its' tracks. There's a sword that was left stuck in the ground in front of the Ark; no one's dared move it yet that I know of. There's been talk of building a little shrine for it and giving it a name."

The prophet smiled, a mirthless expression. So his sword was locking the more powerful creatures in, still? Good. "The sword's name is Kutone," he offered quietly, wanting to know how this new friend of Amaterasu's would react.

And it was worth it. Ishaku's body language spoke of utter shock for all that Waka couldn't quite make out his face. "You know it's name?" the Poncle gasped. Without waiting for an answer, he kept going. "Then that means…but…then _you_…_are_ you a god?"

"No, _mon amí_. Merely the last member of a people now lost."

Ishaku was definitely puzzled, and no little awed. "Lost?" he repeated uncertainly.

Waka nodded, taking a deep breath against the pain of remembering. "_Oui_. I was once a member of the Tribe of the Moon. They are the ones who built that ship that those of Kamui are calling the Ark. My people, all that was left after an attack on the Celestial Plain, were with me on that ship as we fled a great darkness. The demons that had been hidden in my ship attacked us. I am the only one left."

Amaterasu was looking up at him intently, her tail for once still in the dust. She knew he wasn't telling the whole truth, but considering the vehemence with which he'd denied his clan when the two of them had come here, she wasn't going to contest. Besides, Waka was still one of her children. Even the Moon Tribe, for all their flightiness and cruelty, were still her children and she loved them. She was just going to give them a mighty spanking if she ever got the chance to.

So, if Waka wanted to call himself a child of the Celestial Plain, she would allow him to.

In the meantime, Waka had deftly steered the subject away from himself and was getting Ishaku going on the subject of painting. The Poncle was thrilled and completely awe-struck that _the_ goddess of the sun was asking him to help her keep the faith in the kami strong. That she liked his art was, he claimed, the pickled plum in the rice ball. Within a few minutes, several of his best pieces were spread out on the empty side of the bench for their critique—though neither Amaterasu nor Waka could figure out where he'd been keeping such large pages.

The goddess-turned-wolf sighed to herself from her place at the prophet's side. She could feel Waka relaxing against her more with every moment, his pain for the moment forgotten. Even the wounds he'd gotten in his epic fight with the youkai invasion were sparking less to her senses as he talked with Ishaku. Her child really was a social creature; all this solitude, while helpful for his body, was no doubt starting to itch at his soul. He _needed_ people almost as much as she did, if for different reasons.

Which made her quite pleased that she had something to dunk him back into an active life. Amaterasu waited until the conversation was winding down a little before she nibbled a little at Waka's sleeve to get his attention.

"Yes, _ma chērie_?" Waka inquired absently, most of his attention still on the pages now weighed down with bits of rock to keep them from flying away.

_:I have a message for you from the queen of Sei-an.:_

Waka nearly choked. The look he gave her was reproachful as _all_ of his attention was brought onto his lady. "And you did not think to tell me this sooner."

_:You looked like you were enjoying yourself for a change.:_ Amaterasu kept her 'voice' pleasant and cheerful. It wasn't very hard. _:In any case, she invites you to the city for an audience at your convenience. She's curious to meet the man I kept talking to her about.:_

"The queen of Sei-an can hear you?"

The white tail thumped the ground. _:Oh, yes. Some people can, I've found. Those that still believe in the gods with all of their hearts have only a little trouble. I spent nearly a whole afternoon talking to her.:_

Waka's sudden hug was unexpected, but hardly unwelcome. She leaned into it, happy that knowing others could speak to her made him happy. "If she meets with your approval so much, dear one," he whispered, "how can I possibly refuse?"

"We're going back to Sei-an?" piped up Ishaku, bouncing onto the end of Amaterasu's nose. "Good. I wanted to pick up some art supplies. When do we leave?"

———

The only way to get into Sei-an—if you didn't possess Brush powers, and were only a mere mortal—was by the trade road that wound from Shinshu Field through Agata Forest and from there to Taka Pass and the great bridge. If you were a mortal, you would follow that road along Ryoshima Coast until you reached the thick wooden palisade that guarded the entrance into Sei-an City, to walk down to the shores of Lake Beewa and across the sturdy little gated bridge into the Commoners' Quarters.

If you were a mortal, that is.

For Amaterasu—and thus, Waka and Ishaku, who were given the privilege of riding upon her back—it was a quick trip through the nearest mermaid spring and then the trio were in the heart of the city, the quiet, elegant section called the Aristocratic Quarters. Emerging from the tiny garden hidden in a far corner, Amaterasu pointed her nose at a massive structure that rose above a thick wall on their left. _:That's the Emperor's palace:_ she told Waka. Turning her nose to their immediate right, she lifted her head to look towards the top of a soaring building, a _pagoda_ on a huge scale. _:That's Queen Kohane's palace. But before we go there, there's somewhere else we need to visit, first.:_

Without letting Waka off her back, Amaterasu took off in her breath-stealing sprint down a ribbon-path of soft cream-colored sand. All the poor prophet was able to do was cling tightly to her fur much as Ishaku was while the landscape around them blurred.

Claws made faint scraping sounds as the goddess raced through a lecture hall that led out to an impressive wooden bridge, shouts of surprise and a few greetings barely reaching wind-filled ears. Waka's stomach lurched when Amaterasu vaulted some barrier in front of them—they were going too fast for the prophet to tell if it was a wall or something else—and bounced into his throat when they landed.

On a lily pad.

In the middle of a canal.

Waka let out a yelp and clung harder, his goddess' laughter filling his head as she gathered herself and leaped back onto solid ground. The wrench nearly sent Waka tumbling off her back, and for a moment he envied Ishaku and his diminutive size. After all, the fur the Poncle was clinging to was much easier to grab when it was the size of ropes to him. The painter himself let out a whoop of pleasure at their ride as they landed and took off again.

Waka _did_ lose his grip when Amaterasu stopped as abruptly as she'd started, their apparent destination a shop whose front cried that here were fine robes and fabrics to be had. Skills that had gone unused since he'd arrived in Shinshu Field came rushing through his muscles again, sending him into a controlled tumble that brought him onto his feet in a rush.

"Dear one," he panted, straightening, "I would truly appreciate it if a little more warning was given before you applied the brakes."

_:Admit it, you had fun.:_

"I will admit no such thing." Trying very hard to ignore the canine pout from the goddess beside him, the prophet dusted himself off and looked at where they'd stopped. "Why are we here, anyway?"

Amaterasu's pout turned to a mischievous grin. _:My vain peacock: _she chided fondly, _:I know I'm not skilled in fashion, but surely you didn't think I would make you visit royalty in fisherman's garb?:_

To his shame, Waka had. Oh, the kimono and hakama that he was wearing were serviceable enough to do what was needed, truly, but they were so, so _plain_. And rather a bit damp from that trip through the mermaid springs. And made from rough cotton. Hardly what he considered appropriate for a royal court.

"Okay, Ammy!" Ishaku bounced onto the end of her muzzle and from there onto Waka's shoulder. "Let's get our friend decked out proper!"

Inside the shop the air was scented with the sharp flavors of silks and dyes, the bolts of fabric arrayed in attractive patterns along their shelves in proud display. A plump woman behind the counter brightened considerably when Amaterasu pranced in with Waka right behind her. "Snowy!" came the cheerful hail. "It's so wonderful to see you again! Thanks to you, my husband has his inspiration back and has been making patterns that are simply _marvelous_. We're becoming the talk of the whole city." Sharp black eyes took in the slender man standing warily behind the happily-panting wolf, from the long golden braid down to his straw sandals. "Is this the friend little Ishaku told us about?"

"Yep!" Ishaku replied, bouncing up on top of Waka's head. "Waka, this is Mrs. Honori. Mrs. Honori, allow me to introduce to you Waka."

"My deepest respects to you, ma'am," Waka said, folding himself into a polite bow. The mistress of the shop blushed and immediately replied that the honor was hers, and would it please him to come amongst her wares?

Amaterasu sighed, slightly forlorn, as she curled up in a patch of sunshine beneath a paper-lined window. Waka was already moving to go look at the fabrics and colors available, and if he was anything like the handmaidens that the goddess had had back home, then he was going to take at least two hours to browse everything before he even decided on what colors he'd get.

Fashion was something that Amaterasu had never understood. If you liked a color, why not wear it? What did the season and pattern matter? Or age? Or rank? The only reason that Amaterasu had not gone around in ordinary clothing like what Waka was wearing now was that she had been expressly forbidden by her handmaidens to leave her room until they considered her properly dressed. Which meant make-up, and hair ornaments, and jewelry, and heavy robes with way too much embroidery on them.

Of course, she'd always wiped off the make-up as soon as she could and the jewelry had usually gone as presents to the kami of crows. But the robes had always been a problem.

Waka looked up at the sigh and found Amaterasu watching him wistfully from her spot under a window. Even without words he had no problem understanding the reason for it, and smiled. He remembered the day he'd met her, when he'd had to fish her out of a stream after she'd fallen in while playing chase with the kami of rabbits. She had hardly looked the part of 'great mother to the gods' then, with her hair messily braided and wearing only a couple of inner-kimonos, soaked to the skin from her dunking.

But she had smiled so prettily at him, and had invited him to play, and before he'd known it he'd been playing chase with the goddess of the sun and the kami of rabbits, and had helped her back into her many brightly-colored robes afterwards so that her handmaidens wouldn't scold her for ruining or losing them.

_"Tell me, sweetling," he asked of the maiden whose hair he was carefully rebraiding, "do you make a habit of letting the kami of crows steal all of your hair ornaments?"_

_"Oh, yes," was the earnest reply. She still hadn't given him her name, but then, she didn't need to. The golden eyes watching him twist her long, brilliant white tresses and the enameled Divine Instrument laid aside so trustingly by her knees told him exactly who she was. "My handmaidens always put in too many and the crows truly do love bright things. It makes them happy that I give them such pretty gifts. Of course," her lips curved into a lovely pout, "then my handmaidens get upset with me, so I have to let them dress me in heavy robes and wear makeup to make them happy again." She sighed. "Even though I never understand a word they're talking about. If you like a color, shouldn't you wear it? What should the season and the pattern matter?"_

Oh yes, it had had the sound of an old complaint even then. Waka had only bitten his lip to keep from grinning, and had promised to meet her again the next day, silently making a note to himself to bring a brush.

The prophet paused with his hand hovering over the bolts of silk, and grinned. "_Ma chērie_?" Up came the broad head, forward came the delicately-pointed ears. "You said once that you do not understand the wonderful art that is fashion. Would you like me to teach you?"

The speed at which she came to his side was gratifying, to say the least.

———

It took an hour after that and much gentle, firm repeating that _no_, Waka did _not_ want the elaborate, multi-layered robes that were the current style of the royal court before the merchant woman would listen. What he wanted was deceptively simple elegance. He wanted the luxury not to be in the bright colors or rich embroidery, he wanted it in the materials itself. Silk, preferably. High-quality cottons as the next best thing.

After her first lesson in the art that was Waka's third love (Amaterasu and socializing were the others, in that order) Amaterasu had helped to choose two colors that would, unbeknownst to either, be the main colors in the clothes he would wear for the next two hundred years. One was a soft, rich pink that matched the heart of a cherry blossom. The other was a purple rather similar to what one would get if they took the purple of an iris and mixed it with a dollop of cream. Vibrant, yet not overwhelming.

That sakura and irises were two of Amaterasu's favorite flowers and that both were colors in a sunrise, Waka left unsaid as a price was agreed upon for his new outfit and the trio left the shop. They would return tomorrow for the promised clothes and then Waka would pay his respects to the queen of the country he now called 'home'.

In the meantime, there was a city to explore.

————

Waka hugged his aching ribs and laughed. He was being treated to a sight that would have horrified the Celestials if any had been there; the goddess of the sun shamelessly begging for tummy-rubs.

They'd barely gotten away from the shop before a horde of children—if they weren't constantly moving, Waka figured there'd probably be nearly a dozen—had descended upon Amaterasu with shouts of glee. Far from being alarmed as Waka had been, Amaterasu had replied with eager barks and had waded into the middle of the pack with joyful abandon.

She was applying wet wolf-kisses to any bare skin that she could reach: arms, hands, sometimes legs, and any face left unguarded for a moment. The squeals and laughter rose over the noise of the crowds, making some smile and others to merely watch indulgently as the large white wolf was affectionately mauled by little hands.

Just as abruptly as they'd arrived, the children swirled off, presumably back to whatever game had been interrupted to pet Amaterasu. One young girl, no older than seven or eight, waited until the rest were gone before she presented Amaterasu with a package of rice-balls. "Thank you for catching my kite," she told the wolf solemnly. Amaterasu caught her with a quick lick to the cheek before the little girl ran off with a giggle.

Everywhere they went through the Commoners' Quarters, people hailed the goddess with nicknames similar to the one that Mrs. Honori had used. Or else they used a shortened version of her name and greeted Ishaku as well, letting Waka know where they had gotten it from. Many of those who called to Amaterasu also came over with little gifts, thanking her for the help she'd given them in any number of tasks.

After a _sake_ vendor had gotten Amaterasu to promise that she and her friends would be back later to sample his newest wares, Waka drew her over to a wooden terrace built beside a small restaurant. Sitting down, he buried his hand in the fur at the nape of her neck and asked dryly, "Amaterasu, _ma chērie_, is there anyone in this city you have _not_ helped? A bug, or possibly a fish?"

He half-groaned, half-laughed when she tilted her head and actually considered. _:I know there are a few courtiers that I didn't visit before I went to see Queen Kohane:_ she replied after a moment. _:And the streets in this district twist enough that I might have missed someone here.:_

"Dear one, you are an unredeemable meddler."

Amaterasu leaned against him happily. _:You love me anyway.:_

"Always," Waka agreed fervently. "Always and forever. Right, Ishaku?"

"Right, Waka."

But alas, their moment of idyllic peace was broken by the same luck that had pursued Waka from the Celestial Plain and the wreck of his ill-fortuned ship. Screams rose nearby, bringing the trio to their feet and racing for the source of the noise. People were running in panic from the square near the entrance to the city, away from a band of imps that had appeared in their midst.

"I'll just stay up here," Ishaku yelled over the tumult, bouncing several feet straight up and into the branches of a cherry tree. Amaterasu barked her acknowledgement and then she and Waka burst through the last of the crowd to stand before the cackling imps.

Apparently this lot had not gotten the news from their brethren at Shinshu Field, or they would not have stood there so calmly when the white wolf appeared from amongst the fleeing people. Nor did they fear when Waka brought out his enchanted sword that he'd named 'Pillowtalk' in the shape of an ordinary flute.

They learned their lesson quickly enough. Waka did not hesitate, drawing his hand along his weapon until a blade edged in cool blue-white light shone brightly in his grasp. Amaterasu leaped forward with a vicious snarl bubbling from her throat and swung her weapon, Solar Flare, into the nearest of her enemies.

Waka followed close in her footsteps, Pillowtalk slicing a humming blur through the air. True to Amaterasu's word, the power that Tachigami and Kabegami had laid into the sword let it bite deep into youkai flesh.

The imps were realizing that, hey, you know, maybe they might be outclassed a bit here, and were doing their best to wreak some bit of damage on their opponents before they were slain. One managed to land a solid blow with his _samisen_ to Waka's head even as the prophet's sword sliced him in half. Stunned, Waka came back to himself a few moments later to find that the last imp was a vanishing stem of flowers and that Amaterasu was carefully licking his temple.

When had he sat down?

Ishaku came hopping from his tree to resume his place on Amaterasu's head. "Wow, and I thought Ammy here could do some damage," he whistled appreciatively.

_:Waka, are you okay?:_ Amaterasu asked anxiously, whining as he raised a hand to pet her.

"Yes, beloved, I'm fine," Waka answered her, rising to his feet. His fingers gingerly felt at the place where he'd been struck, but not even a twinge of pain met his searching touch. Ah, Amaterasu's healing touch. Where would he be without it?

Probably still recuperating in Genji's hut, most likely.

The white wolf pressed herself against his leg, whining again. _:You're sure? You aren't just saying that to keep me from worrying, are you?:_

"No, Amaterasu. Truly, I'm fine."

"That's good," Ishaku said, hopping to Waka's shoulder and tugging on a strand of his hair that had escaped the braid. "Because we've got more company, and they have _bows_."

Both wolf and warrior turned to see a squad of the Royal Guard approaching from the direction of the Palaces. Waka sighed and put away his sword. "I'm fine," he said for the third time, reaching down and scratching behind Amaterasu's ears. "I'm just going to be severely under-dressed in about five minutes."

————

Sometimes, Waka sighed to himself, he really hated being right. And he hadn't even needed his gift of prophecy to see this coming, either. He and Amaterasu (with Ishaku a hidden, silent passenger in the white fur) had been…well…it wasn't precisely arrested, but the quick search the guards had performed on them had been quite thorough.

Pillowtalk was now residing in the care of one of the guards, the prophet having been just a hair too slow in returning it to flute form for it to go unnoticed. After the weapons search, the trio had been hustled through the streets and into the Queen's Palace.

Which, granted, had given Waka the opportunity to get a better look at the scenery he'd missed during his first trip through the city, but now he was being led between several ranks of guards and into the yawning cavern that was the Queen's throne room.

And he was _still_ dressed in rough-spun _kimono_ and _hakama_, damn it!

"The goddess Amaterasu and companion!" called a herald as the group passed them. Waka was a little unnerved when the guards peeled away from them and went to stand along the walls on either side of the door, the one who had his sword not even hesitating as he simply took his place.

Waka wanted Pillowtalk back, thank you. Queen's Palace or not, he did _not_ like being without a weapon.

To the prophet's surprise, the room was empty of courtiers. Nor had they passed any on the way up, which was even stranger. Where was everyone?

"Welcome, honored guests," a sweet voice greeted. Waka brought his attention to the front of the massive room as he and Amaterasu approached the reed curtain that was slowly rising to reveal Queen Kohane herself. Hair black as a raven's wing was neatly combed so that two short strands of it fluttered at the edges of a face that practically _required_ love poems be written to it. On her head sat a strange sort of crown that appeared to be a mini-shrine, topped with a small, round mirror with three bright tongues of flame dancing behind it.

In one dainty hand was a spray of mulberry, and hovering above her was a large, round crystal big enough for a grown person to sit in. It glowed faintly as it hung in the air, a ribbon of fabric curling around it.

Tapping her lips with the tip of her mulberry branch, Queen Kohane regarded them with no little mischief gleaming in night-dark eyes as she chided the wolf standing before her, "Great Amaterasu. You cannot seem to come to Sei-an without causing some sort of commotion, can you?"

Amaterasu's tail thumped as the goddess sat herself with total ease on the rug beneath her feet. _:It does appear to be a failing of mine. I shall have to try harder; we were in the city for at several hours before trouble found us.:_

Ishaku heaved a barely audible sigh when the Queen giggled softly. Her gaze shifted from cheerful wolf to uncomfortable man, and she tapped her lips again. "And this must be your Waka," she declared, rising to her feet amongst the rustle of many layers of silk. Waka tried not to let his growing discomfort show as he was given a careful, circling scrutiny by Queen Kohane, nor his surprise at a monarch stooping to actually stand in front of someone who was dressed as a commoner.

After a couple of laps the Queen stopped in front of him, head tilted to one side, close enough for him to smell the perfume combed into her hair as she looked up into his face. Several heartbeats went by before she smiled and returned to her seat. "Guards, return to him any weapons you have taken from him," she commanded, voice never changing from that gentle music she'd first spoken in.

Waka breathed a purely internal sigh of relief as he was allowed to once again tuck Pillowtalk into his sash. When it was secure, only then did he go to his knees in a full bow of greeting. "Your Majesty," he said into the quiet. "I am indeed Waka. It is an honor and a privilege to be here."

"Sir Waka, you are indeed welcome to Sei-an and in my presence," Queen Kohane replied. "My apologies for asking for you on such short notice, but I deemed the matter I wish to speak with you on one of great importance. It could not wait for a formal messenger."

Rising until he sat _seiza_, the formal kneeling position, Waka gazed steadily up at her. "I am yours to command, Your Majesty."

A graceful sweep of an arm clad in rainbow colors brought the crystal down until it floated mere inches off the ground between ruler and warrior. "You are aware, I am certain, of the events that are transpiring around Nippon and off our Northern coast." Inside the crystal, scenes formed that showcased the depredations of monsters, from the lowly green imps to greater demons like giant wheels and _tengu._ "Our lands are beset, without and within, by creatures of dark, evil intent. Our warriors have not been trained to fight them, and do not always emerge victorious against their attacks. Indeed, against the stronger demons, we are lucky when they emerge at all." Another gesture, and the crystal returned to its' place above the Queen's head. "The warriors I bless are proving to be less savory mouthfuls, but I am afraid that the forces that the Emperor and I can muster will not be enough to protect our people. Therefore, I must ask of you a favor."

"There are limits to the miracles I can perform," Waka told her in utter sincerity. "Even with the greatest goddess at my side. I cannot slay all of the fiends that plague these lands."

"No, but if you were to train an elite force whose sole purpose is to defeat them, there would be greater chance of success."

Waka blinked. "I'm sorry, Your Majesty, I believe I have misheard. You want me to teach your subjects how to fight demons?"

"Close, Sir Waka. I wish for you to teach my people how to defeat them. You will be paid, and funds will be provided to construct a headquarters for you and the men you choose. I would prefer that you build it in or near Sei-an for ease of communication and supply, but if you believe another location to be more suitable, do not hesitate to say so."

The prophet rubbed at the back of his neck and muttered to Amaterasu, "Just how hard did that imp hit me in the head?"

She butted him in the shoulder in reproof. _:She's quite serious, and you are not dreaming. I think it's a marvelous idea. It would be nice to have someone find out where the bigger, meaner demons are hiding instead of having to sniff them out all the time. And just think. This would win you a high place in the court, the ear of Queen Kohane, and all you'd have to do is train eager men to do something they're already trying to do. Only you'd be teaching them how to do it better and with fewer fatalities.:_ She paused, tilted her head to the side, and added, _:Not to mention you wouldn't have to complain about smelling like fish or mend nets.:_

Waka laughed. "You are entirely too sharp, beloved!"

"Are we agreed, then, Sir Waka?" Queen Kohane inquired from her dais. In reply, Waka placed his hand over his heart and bowed until his braid thumped to the floor.

"I am at your service, Queen Kohane."

And so it began.

———

Note: I did actually use proper grammar, but Quickedit or whatever the site is using nowadays munches all commas placed next to colons. Also, my apologies for mangling any and all French used in this setting from here on out.

I'm also not entirely satisfied with the ending, but the darn thing threatened to keep on going. Thirteen pages is enough for a one-shot.


	2. Birth of Nagi

Thanks to everyone who reviewed already! I don't think I'll be putting in review responses here, since a lot of the time the replies section might end up being longer than the actual piece. But never fear, every review is read and savored. Yes, even the flames, if they're constructed properly. If you do want to flame me, please remember to use good grammar and spelling, none of this text-talk business or super-short 'you suck' or something. If you have a complaint, I'm more likely to do something about it if you don't sound like a twit. Okay?

PS. **Ruff1298**, **Ri2**, **voodoo-coffee**, and **Gummy-Tank**, thank you so much for being my first reviewers for this collection! Gummy-Tank, if you haven't yet, go check out _A Hylian in Nippon_ and _The Long Howl_. They are full of the awesomeness that is good writing, and my take on Amaterasu's personality was heavily influenced by the latter. Voodoo-coffee, it pains me to say that Clover has disbanded and the likelihood of a sequel is slim to none. But still, there is always hope! Um...did I say that already?

This piece is set farther forward in the 'past' section of the game; specifically, it involves the birth of Nagi and where a certain white wolf might have been at the time…

Disclaimer: I'm going to get bored of putting these things in eventually. I do not own Okami, and the only characters I come up with are bit players at best. Still, please ask before borrowing.

———————————

_Sixty-three years ago, in the beautiful land of Nippon, there came crashing to earth a great monster who called himself Orochi. He was a fearsome beast of eight heads that swung and coiled from a body like a mountain, with a hide tougher than the mortal blades that were quickly brought against him. When the first dozen warriors fell to the monster, the rest decided to hunt easier glory elsewhere and left him to claim the Moon Cave undisturbed._

_The Moon Cave was on a small spit of land at the edge of an enormous lake, which in turn banked on a place called Shinshu Field. Before Orochi came, it was lovely and peaceful, full of grasses, trees, and flowers so beautiful that there were hundreds of poems extolling their virtue. _

_After Orochi came…well, Shinshu Field was still beautiful, but no longer so peaceful, and the poets stopped coming. _

_But worse than that was the dreadful tithe the demon placed upon a nearby village. The people of Kamiki had no hope to fight Orochi, for no warriors of great destiny lived amongst them, and so were forced to give up one maiden a year to his fearful appetite. Orochi himself chose his victim each year on the night of the first full moon after all the cherry trees had bloomed, the night of the Kamiki Festival._

_No one knew, though, that there had been another being that had tumbled to the mortal lands along with Orochi, who bore no love for the creature that now held sway over the poor people of Kamiki. All they knew was that soon after the eight-headed monster had begun terrorizing them, a white wolf began haunting the streets of the village in the weeks before the Festival, gaze steady on those who met Orochi's desires in his sacrifices. _

_The wolf was dubbed 'Shiranui', which meant 'white fang', and quickly earned a fearsome reputation as Orochi's familiar. And so the years passed, until the spring of the great monster's sixty-third sacrifice…_

——————————

There was no moon tonight. There would not have been one, even if the skies had not been pouring rain down onto the earth since late afternoon.

The poor weather had driven the residents of the tiny hamlet of Kamiki into their homes earlier than usual, leaving the dirt roads winding around the huts and the surrounding fields empty. The Festival was still over a month away.

But if anyone had looked outside tonight in the direction of their village's waterfall, they might have seen a stray piece of the absent moon drop from the high cliffs down onto a giant lily-pad that appeared out of nowhere. Or seen two more of the broad plants do the same, spaced just closely enough that the piece of moonlight could use them as leaping stones across the basin.

They might have, thought the wolf to herself as she shook the damp out of her fur, but the villagers were too afraid to look through the reed blinds on their windows on the best of nights, let alone a dreary one like this. She couldn't blame them. Not when she knew what their lives were like.

She herself was here—and had been here all day, up in her hiding spot above the falls—weeks before her self-appointed duty was to properly begin, because tonight might be the beginning of a prophecy's fulfillment. _"Orochi can only be defeated with the power of the Chosen One,"_ rang in her head for the uncounted time. The man who had spoken it had told her that she would find the one she sought in the village of Kamiki, though he hadn't been certain of _when_ that one would appear.

She and the man had been waiting together for sixty-four years. Every now and again she would go visit him, to be reminded of the promise, to mourn with him about what they had lost, and to share for a little while the vigil over the Moon Cave.

He and her other companion, a tiny forest sprite, were the only ones who called her by her real name. Even now, she had been called Shiranui so often that sometimes she forgot that once, the name Amaterasu had once fallen from countless reverent lips. She sometimes forgot that she once walked upon two legs instead of four, as a maiden and a goddess beloved by her people.

Well. She was still a goddess, and those who dwelled outside Kamiki did not fear her as these poor people did. The prophet and the sprite waited for her even now, in a tiny shrine that had been erected just off the ribbon of sand that led through the gates to the Moon Shrine. No doubt they had warm food and possibly even _sake_ waiting with them for her return.

_No,_ Amaterasu thought with growing excitement as she padded through the dark and the wet to a hut on the outskirts of the village. _There_ will_ be _sake_ waiting. Waka will want to celebrate with me tonight. I can _feel_ it._

Within the hut lived the village's only fighter, a man of moderate talent who was capable of chasing off Orochi's minions, if not the monstrous serpent himself. And his wife, pregnant these last nine months. She had managed to escape the doom that so many maidens had been lost to by marrying young—and even more unusual, had managed a love-match while she was at it.

Amaterasu applauded that kind of courage. Or she would, if she had hands instead of paws.

The divine wolf slipped into the space beneath the raised floor and shook the damp from her fur again. Above her, the sounds of three people moving about could easily be heard over the soft rain—the expecting couple and the midwife, preparing for the birth. The mother had been in labor all day, and her husband had spent much of it chasing off the imps that had been attracted by the event.

Both expecting parents were worn out, so neither thought much that no other imps had come into the village that night. Amaterasu had slain them herself, using her Celestial Brush and her vantage point to turn any of Orochi's minions into short-lived sprays of flowers.

Their exhaustion was also a point in her favor, in that it meant no one was expecting the fearsome Shiranui to take up a watchful post beneath someone's house tonight.

Rain kept falling, the clouds growing into a small storm as the night progressed. Miserable and wet, Amaterasu stayed in her hiding place and let her glowing eyes, lit from within like the rest of her, chase off any stray imp that wandered into Kamiki, attracted by the noises of the birth. Her ears remained pricked forward, listening closely as the cries of the fighter's wife rose in pitch.

At last the cries changed and were joined by a second, lustier yowl that protested the sudden cold and the whole business of getting born. At that same moment, Amaterasu felt the child's thread of destiny tie irrevocably to hers, and she _knew_.

Joy sent her bolting from beneath the hut, barely hearing the rejoicing fighter proudly name his new son Nagi, to scramble into open air. The moment she could see the sky the goddess brought out her Celestial Brush and painted a looping rope of holy ink across the clouds. Instantly a huge gust of divine wind swept them away, baring a starry sky to the world below.

Inside the hut, the adults fell silent at the sudden lack of raindrops on the roof. The newborn Nagi paid little attention and drew in another breath for an even louder bawl. Fangs bared in a canine grin, Amaterasu painted another swirl of ink amongst the stars and brought a crescent moon out to make the wet world sparkle.

She was gone, racing up the path towards the observation deck by the time a wide-eyed midwife peeked around the reed curtain to stare at the clear night.

Claws dug first into wet earth, then skittered across the paved stone path that curved around and up to a ridge. Past the observation deck and onto the very top of the ridge, where Amaterasu dug in her claws and howled her elation for everyone to hear. Her howl rang through the village and across the quiet vale of Shinshu Field, to the ears of a blue-eyed man and the tiny figure surrounded by golden light that rode on his shoulder.

It echoed even to the depths of the Moon Cave, to the restless ears of the monstrous Orochi. He rumbled in reply, shaking the caverns around him.

Waka lifted his head, listening intently. He and the diminutive Ishaku heard the celebration in the song of Amaterasu. They understood the message in it, just as clearly as Orochi did. _Your days are numbered, Orochi!_ rang through the air, from the goddess to her hated enemy. _Start counting them!_

—————

The little blue button down there is lonely. Maybe you should try clicking on it? n,.,n


	3. Waka's Mourning

Thanks, Meiza! You gave my Muse a kick-start last night with your hint. So…wish granted? At least half of it, anyway.

**Ruff1298: ** I don't think imps are, really—at least not by Japanese folklore or game, but hey, it's a perfect chance to do what imps do best: cause trouble.

The title is rather self-explanatory. **Warning: spoilers in this chapter. Read at own risk.** Set after Orochi bites the dust. The first time, anyway.

Disclaimer: Anyone who says I'm making money off of this is going to be laughed at. I don't own any rights to Okami, or there would _so_ be a sequel.

————————

Waka was the last one to visit the new shrine to the heroic, and very fallen, Shiranui. He came alone, bearing nothing but a single bottle of a certain kind of _sake_ that could only be found in Sei-an and the mystical artifact he'd long ago named 'Pillowtalk'. Only rice wine, a flute, and himself.

Less than a week had passed since the fearsome Orochi had fallen against the combined might of the white wolf and Kamiki's own great warrior, Nagi. Less than a week since Waka's beloved companion and dearest friend had died from a wound that had never been dealt by Orochi's fangs.

He knew that, because he had supported her as she'd made the final trek into the monster's lair. He had seen the blood soaking into her pristine fur and had wept at it.

"But I did not stop you," Waka told the stone shape that even now stood ready to battle the darkness it had helped to break. His voice was harsh in the silence of deep night, abused from several long days of mourning. "No more than Ishaku stopped you. We knew that you had to do it, we knew that without you, Orochi's reign would have become all but unbreakable."

Tears ran anew in the same tracks that so many of their brethren had run already, and the prophet warrior made no effort to dash them away. He gave them as part of his offering to the statue, all that remained of his beloved Amaterasu.

Her mortal shell had been burned in full glory as befitted a proper hero days ago. He thought it was fitting that the shell of the goddess of the sun should be consumed by fire, but all the same, he had not been able to bring himself to attend the funeral. What little details to be told had been told to him by Ishaku, who had left afterwards to grieve the loss of their heart in his home in Kamui.

Waka wished him luck. The wound that he bore within him would not be healed by anything, not even time, for a century. He wondered if it would not eventually bleed him to death before then.

The cork of the bottle made a soft _pop_ as he pulled it free and poured the contents over the muzzle of the statue. His Amaterasu had loved _sake_, and this was her favorite kind. The maker had been someone she'd helped long ago, when Orochi's reign had been a fresh terror—there was one less bottle of the rare vintage tonight.

Either a trick of the carving or the shaking of his hand was the only thing that Waka could think of when some of the rice wine slid against stone cheeks like tears. It broke his heart anew, to think of his goddess crying for his pain, so he did as she would have done for him and kissed the _sake_ tears away.

He stood for several long moments with his arms around her carved neck, remembering how it felt to have her living, breathing, and loving beside him, many such moments as this, when he'd needed her comfort to help him stumble on. And tried very hard not to think of how long it would be until he could feel it again.

"I will miss you," he whispered at last. "Though my Sight says that you will walk the world again in a century's time. You are a god, and thus you cannot truly die. So you sleep now in a shell of stone until the cries of your children, beset once again by the deepest of darkness, wake you to fight once again. But until you do, this child of yours shall walk a long and lonely path without your light to warm him."

With that, he took several steps back, put his flute to his lips, and played his grief for anyone to hear as the final part of this, his offering to her.

And because his eyes were closed as he played, he did not see the moisture on the statue's face that had nothing to do with _sake_.

———————

Thank you, please come again!


	4. Big Trouble, Small Package

I don't know about you, but I can totally see this happening. Happy Memorial Day, everyone, and maybe I'll see some of you at Fanime!

————

Six year old Nagi was very brave. Brave, good-looking, and a master swordsman. Though, really, he didn't know why the good-looking part was important, but since all the stories his 'kaa-san told him about heroes had them be good-looking, it must be. Right? Right.

Master swordsman Nagi had one goal in his young life: find and beat up the white wolf, Shiranui. He had lived with the fear that the people in his village had of the wolf for all of the six years of his life, and he was tired of it. So tired that now, when Shiranui had begun appearing in and around the village again, like he did every year around the Festival, Nagi would go after him. Nagi's mother would have to drag him into their home every time.

And because Nagi would be glaring a challenge—and yelling one, too—over his mother's shoulder, he was the only one to see that the wolf would watch him back, as if he was waiting for Nagi to follow up on that challenge.

Now it was only three weeks until this year's Festival, and Shiranui had been spotted near the observation deck last night by Mr. Tangerine's son. So Nagi made a decision.

This would be the year that Shiranui would get what was coming to him. And while he was at it, the Great Warrior Nagi would go and beat up Orochi, too. That way, the Hagaki family could stop being so worried about their daughter, Makiko.

Decision made, Nagi waited until his father was out hunting and his mother was out back washing clothes, grabbed his father's spare sword, and made for Shinshu Field at a determined trot. He didn't breathe easy until he was past the corridor of sakura trees—it was no easy task, sneaking around. His mother had the fox ears, she did, and was far too canny at catching him making trouble for comfort.

Feeling quite proud of himself, the boy repeated to himself that he was the bravest, handsomest master swordsman in the world, and unsheathed the sword to try it out. He was surprised at the weight of it—the wooden practice swords his father let him use weren't nearly so heavy.

Or so long, he discovered unhappily. If he wasn't careful, he was going to ruin his master swordsman's image by tripping over the thing. After all, what kind of master would he look like if he fell over his own sword?

He was so absorbed in practicing with his weapon that he didn't notice the wandering troupe of imps until they'd already circled around him and their shadows fell across his face. When Nagi looked up in growing dismay, they started cackling.

One shoved another of it's fellows. "Look out, Rashi!" it laughed. "The bite-sized samurai's gonna hack you to pieces if you aren't careful!"

The imp named Rashi shoved back. "Mind yourself! These guys go after the ugliest first, so I'll be fine!"

"Man, we're just lucky that crazy wolf ain't around today," a third imp said, shuffling a little closer to the boy. There were choruses of agreement at that fact from all the imps gathered.

Nagi was getting a bad feeling. There were more imps than he had fingers—darn it, he should have paid attention when his 'kaa-san was trying to teach him counting!—and they were all a _lot_ bigger than he was. But he was a Great Warrior, and Great Warriors didn't show fear! So instead of doing something undignified, like trying to turn tail and run straight back home, he brandished his sword and yelled, "Go away or I'll chop you up!"

His potent threat was met with gales of laughter from the imps. One of them promptly swatted his sword out of his hands and sent it skittering over the grass, to stop well out of reach of the young boy. "Kid, you gotta be about twenty years older and a lot bigger if you wanna scare _us_," it told him cheerfully. "But hey, since you made us laugh, we'll be nice and kill you quick."

Nagi did what any smart, powerful, very outnumbered warrior did in situations like this. He promptly began yelling for help at the top of his lungs. The imps started laughing again as they reached for him, but their laughter stopped when an enraged roar rattled the air around them.

Something barreled into the imps at an impressive speed, blazing white and snarling. Nagi felt someone or something latch onto the back of his shirt to send him sailing over the heads of the imps with remarkable gentleness. He landed in a patch of flowers that hadn't been there a second ago, tucking into a roll like his father had taught him until he fetched up, breathless, in a particularly lush section of grass.

He levered himself into a sitting position and watched in utmost amazement as something blindingly white tore into the now-scattering imps. Several pieces of those already dead vanished into sprays of pretty flowers, which in turn vanished after a moment or two. Whoever or whatever was killing the imps was way too fast for Nagi to keep up with, even with his eyes.

Then, when the last imp had been sent flying in several neatly-chopped pieces, the blur stopped, and resolved into Shiranui.

But this was a Shiranui that Nagi would bet no one in the village saw. The ordinary white fur now glowed like a candle through the palest of rice paper, and was marked on the shoulders, head, and eyes with swirling red lines. And above the muscled back floated a spinning disc of red enamel that trailed a swath of soft green flames.

Before Nagi could do much else other than stare, Shiranui gave him one assessing look and turned to go.

Nagi wasn't even thinking when he scrambled to his feet and yelled, "Wait!" He clapped his hands over his mouth as the wolf turned back, ears tilted in curiosity. "You save my life, and now you're just going to leave?" he demanded, trying to kick his brain back into working order.

The broad head lifted in surprise. _:In case you've forgotten, child:_ he heard a girl say from everywhere and nowhere at once, _:your village doesn't like me. I was leaving before you remembered and threw stones at me or something.:_ The voice sounded like the girl was old enough for Orochi to want to eat her—and pretty enough, he guessed, if voices were anything to go by. It also sounded as grumpy as Mr. Chubari did when his daughter dug up his turnip field with her dog Mochi.

Nagi blinked. What the voice just said…did she mean…? Just when Nagi thought things couldn't be weirder, the world got yanked out from under him again. "Shiranui? You're a girl?"

He hadn't known wolves could roll their eyes like that. The wolf sighed as he—_she_—turned to face him. _:Yes, child, I'm a girl. To be specific, I'm a goddess, though I don't think you'd believe that.:_

"But if you're a goddess, then why are you working for Orochi?"

Shiranui bared her teeth. _:I'm not. How you people got that idea, I don't know. I hate him and I will kill him one day.:_

Nagi took his first, really good close-up look at the real Shiranui, seeing powerful muscles moving underneath all that fur. And what was obviously what his mother would call a Divine Instrument on the wolf's back. "Um…Sorry. So why don't you kill him now?"

Her head tilted sideways for a moment, and then she replied, _:Because I'm waiting for someone to help me fight him.:_

Hope bloomed in Nagi's chest. Maybe he still wouldn't have to see the Hagakis crying for their daughter! "Really!? Who!?"

Golden eyes gazed at him steadily. Nagi gulped. He knew what that look meant. "…Me?"

_:Not until you're older, but yes. A friend of mine told me a prophecy. He said that I would need the help of the Chosen One—:_ and Nagi could hear the capital letters clear as day, _:—to bring Orochi down. So hurry up and grow strong, Nagi. I've been waiting a long time.:_

"I will," promised the boy solemnly. "I really will be the greatest swordsman of all time. And I'll make Orochi pay for making everyone in the village sad."

Nagi hadn't known that wolves could smile, either, as Shiranui rose to her feet and took several steps forward until she could touch her nose to his forehead. _:I know you will, Nagi. I've been watching you, and you grow stronger every day. But for now, you should go home. I'll bet your mother's worried about you.:_

Oh, gods, his mother. Everyone in the village must have heard him yelling his head off! Nagi turned and bolted for home, words that a six-year-old shouldn't know scorching the air in his wake.

———

Amaterasu chuckled to herself, watching the small boy race out of sight. He hadn't quite gotten around to saying 'thank you', but it was nice that she hadn't gotten yelled at for a change. Maybe things were already changing for the better, even more than simply knowing where the Chosen One was.

With a shake of her body to settle what little of her fur was still out of place from that scuffle, the goddess of the sun pranced over to where the sword's sheath lay in the grass and picked it up in her jaws. As a reward for Nagi's otherwise-good manners, she'd make sure his father's sword got home as safely as the man's son.

_:Hmm. This is going to be interesting. I've never sheathed a sword with my teeth before…:_

———


	5. Meeting Amaterasu

Eh-heh, sorry this one took so long. I was debating whether or not to put it up at all. Ah, well. Fanime wasn't quite as fun as I'd hoped, mostly due to hotel conditions and costumes taking forever, but I got some nifty stuff and got to go to one of Richard Waugh's panels. He's the voice actor of Wesker in Resident Evil. It makes me sad that they denied him the part of Wesker in the movie.

New anime loves: _Zombie-Loan_ and _Spice and Wolf_. What I got to see of the latter, anyway.

Fangirl moment: Found copy of poster that was commissioned by local anime-store owner. Sephiroth and Cloud, yummy.

Hotel recommendation: **Do not **book reservations at the Fairmont. Yes, the rooms are spacious, but they charge you just for putting your stuff in their minibar, parking costs ridiculous amounts, and they supply you with a dinky tv and no DVD player. And good luck with the cleaning service. They either wake you up way too early or they don't show up at all. The shower was really nice, but the fixtures for the bathtub were wonky as hell.

This piece is a companion one-shot to 'The Beginning', otherwise known as 'Chapter 1'. Waka, a young member of the Moon Tribe, is chosen to be the next Ambassador to the Celestial Plain. There he meets a very special goddess…

———————

Most of the gods that dwelled on the Celestial Plain were wary of the massive iron ship that the Moon Tribe had built. Many of them gave voice to complaints when the greater gods decreed that, as a sign of their alliance with the capricious Tribe, they would build a shrine for the flying monstrosity by the palace. The lesser gods, the kami, were told that the ship had been built for emergency evacuations—a precaution, nothing more, as there had not been an attack on the Plain for time beyond anyone's memory.

Those who had been tasked to build the ship only smiled prettily (as they did everything) and watched the thing sail off with cheerful hearts.

For the youth of the Tribe that had been chosen to pilot the ship, the massive iron hull meant freedom and a piece of safety if things were to go dreadfully wrong sometime in a future too far away for anyone to see. It meant a chance to get away from his family and their needling, their constant pressure for him to cave to their selfish demands.

He didn't even need foresight to tell him how unhappy he'd be if he did.

When he stepped out onto the rainbow bridge and breathed the air of the Plain for the first time, he felt his heart lift and spread wings that had been long trapped shut. Here was a chance for him to prove that his people weren't all flighty, arrogant, shallow creatures—even though that description would match everyone he knew.

And here was a chance to start over again.

In search of his first, real moment of solitude, he finished disembarking and located the nearest kami—by the crimson markings on his forehead and around eyes that glowed a molten gold, the man was an o-kami, a greater god. "_Bonjour_, honorable sir," he greeted politely. He was given a mildly wary look, then the golden gaze flicked to the iron ship.

"What is it you want, Tribesman?"

Rather taken aback at the blunt reply, the young man named Waka regathered his composure. "Please, pardon my interruption, but would you, by any chance, know of a quiet place to think?"

Mollified by the show of manners—_How rare, a polite Tribesman! _thought Yomigami to himself—he replied in kind. "This must be your first visit," he guessed in a gentler tone. When Waka bobbed his head in a vigorous nod, he even unbent so far as to smile. "You will find the forest yonder the kind of place you seek, I believe. But do not go unarmed," he added warningly, "for there are wild gods that dwell there that follow the mantra of 'eat or be eaten'."

Waka thanked him profusely and began to walk purposefully in the direction he'd been pointed in. He was stopped only a few steps later by the god's call for him to hold a moment. Startled, he turned to look over his shoulder.

The god was giving the forest edge a thoughtful look, but he brought his gaze back to the young man quickly enough. "Should you meet a maiden in the forest," Yomigami told him, still in that tone of helpful warning, "with hair that puts the whitest snow to shame and eyes bright as newest gold, then do not, upon pain of your life, even think to raise a hand or weapon to her."

"Who is she?" Waka asked, wide-eyed. He did not point out that the same colors applied to the god he was speaking to now.

The answer was only, "Someone who is dear to all of us on the Plain. Remember my advice, and good day, young Tribesman."

Glad to escape the intense gaze, Waka bowed deeply and scampered off. He did not see the god watch him go with a thoughtful expression, one finger absently rubbing against one of the short, deer-like horns that grew from his temples. "Hm. He seems about the right age to provide her company," Yomigami murmured to himself as he returned to searching for one of his compatriots, the small, sharp-tongued Tachigami. He needed to have a word with her about slicing up his garden's statuary for practice, never mind the fact that a smear of his Brush repaired them. "That is, _if_ he can keep up with her."

———

Waka felt the hint of a sneeze coming as he walked into the depths of the ancient forest, but it was forgotten as Waka tipped his head back, and back, and back…And still, the tops of the trees remained firmly out of easy sight, their branches forming a near-solid roof several hundred feet above his head.

That made things rather dim here beneath the canopy, but frequent shafts of sunlight broke through the comfortable, permanent twilight, coaxing bright wildflowers to carpet the ground at their feet. Their perfume filled the air, and Waka felt at utter peace while he walked deeper and deeper into the forest. It was hard to believe that the palace of the great gods lay less than ten minutes behind him, with all the noise and bustle such a place always held.

He could feel the occasional eye on him as he wandered, eyes that noted the hand he rested on the hilt of a _katana_ and left him alone.

Just when he was getting tired, he stumbled upon a small clearing formed by the fall of one of the giant trees, where sunlight poured down onto a pair of sakura trees and an abundance of the flowers he'd only seen in patches before. A natural spring bubbled near the middle of the clearing with coins glinting on the sandy bottom.

_If there was ever a more perfect spot to rest and enjoy the solitude,_ Waka thought to himself as he gratefully folded himself into a cross-legged seat beneath one of the sakura trees, _then I may never find it, for it must be a hidden thing, indeed._

A single bird sang softly in the crown of the tree he sat under; the scents of the flowers were nearly drowning him in their perfume, and he happily let them. There was nothing this wild on the Moon, at least nothing that he'd ever found, for his was a people entirely too fond of their technology. Everything there was tamed, forced into some kind of neat order, made to conform—as his family had tried to do to him.

Thank all the kami, great and small, for getting him away from that place!

_Mind you_, Waka thought to no one in particular as he turned his face up to the drifting petals that fell to kiss his cheeks and eyelids, _it isn't as though I hate the place. My people make wondrous things. They just need to loosen up very, very badly. I felt…stifled._

A cascade of laughter, breathless and full of happiness, broke him gently from his thoughts. Bringing his face back down, he saw a flash of white amongst the shadow-wreathed trunks. It was obviously following something. And that something darted and ran in nothing resembling a straight line.

Waka watched as what must be a kami of rabbits tore past him, powerful feet kicking up a flurry of petals as it ran. Fast on its' heels was a maiden whose beauty stunned the youth for the fraction of a second it took for her to speed by. He was only to remember fragments after she'd vanished from sight, her laughter lingering far longer than she.

Bright silks of _kimonos_, at least three layers. A braid half-unraveled or just badly done, a flicker of something metal bouncing at the end of it. The crimson marks of a greater god. Skin pale as rice-paper, flushed with life.

And bright golden eyes that lovingly scorched you to the soul.

His lungs reminded him at that point that, while he could look forward to a very long life, it required him to you know, _breathe_? He let out the breath he'd been holding in a rush, finding himself trembling from the after-effects of that encounter.

Gods, if _that_ was the maiden that the god had told him about, why would he ever worry about Waka harming her? All she would have to do is smile and any enemy would fall at her feet to beg her forgiveness.

"Lady!" a squeaky shout came from the direction the rabbit-kami had run, "Look out for the—!"

_Ker-plash!_

A deeper voice croaked in concern even as Waka leapt to his feet and raced in the direction of the splash, "Lady, are you all right?"

"I'm wet," came the mournful reply, in a melodic voice that Waka could listen to all day, "and I'm stuck. I'm fine, other than that."

Waka found himself at the edge of a tiny canyon, a little more than two man-heights deep, at the bottom of which ran a gurgling stream. At the farther edge perched the rabbit-kami, peering down into the canyon with a crow-kami hopping anxiously back and forth beside it. A hair-ornament with a spray of stone wisteria dangled from the crow's beak.

Standing knee-deep in water was the maiden, who was lifting her sleeves clear of the wet with a doleful expression. Waka crouched down at the edge, ignoring the looks of surprise from the two small kami. All his attention was for the girl glowing faintly in the dimness. "_Mademoiselle_, how high can you jump?" he called.

She blinked up at him. "Oh! Hello! I can almost reach the edge if I use the walls, but it's just a little too far."

"Then wait a moment, please, and I will try to help you out of there." He looked around for something he could anchor his feet or legs with, and found only the two small kami. They were watching him expectantly. "Pardon, but are you two able to take a…heavier form?"

"Sure," rasped the crow-kami. It leaped into the air and turned into a black-haired young boy, who promptly bounded across the gully to stand beside the Tribesman. "You want us to weight your legs, right?"

"_Ouí_, that would be most helpful." Giving the crow a thankful smile, Waka stretched himself out on the ground, his arms and head—and his own long, sun-gold braid—dangling down into the gully. A moment later the weight of the small god settled on his calf. With a breathless squeak the rabbit changed into a wide-eyed girl that joined the crow on his other leg. He made sure they weren't going to slip, then smiled down at the maiden in the stream. "Now, _ma petite_, if you would?"

She nodded. Gathered herself into a crouch, and sprang. Water sprayed upwards as she hit the wall with both feet and pushed off again. And with a satisfying smack, her hands landed against his forearms and clung to his sleeves. He in turn wrapped his hands with gentle firmness around her wrists and pulled upwards.

She hung in his grip as he drew her up, shifting his hold from her wrists to one arm around her waist, until he could use the rest of him to sit himself upright with her in his arms. The two kami on his legs cheered and flung themselves onto the pair in a joyful hug.

"You did it!" cheered the rabbit-girl. "Hurrah! Hurrah!"

"But I'm afraid I've gotten you all wet," said the maiden apologetically, as she and Waka rose to their feet. "It's poor payment for your help."

Waka, feeling a blush begin to creep up his neck as he looked into luminous, guileless suns, hastily batted at the air. "_Non_, _non_, it's quite alright! I was happy to be of service, truly I am."

It was then that the small crow-kami gasped and pointed to the soaked tumble of snowy hair. "Lady! Your bell and Instrument are gone!"

Gone was the growing sense of power that was pressing against Waka's skin. In its' place was a young girl, dashing about to find her missing treasures. He found himself joining the search before he was properly aware of it, and he was the one to locate the missing bell where it had rolled into a patch of flowers.

Somehow he ended up being the one she asked to tie the bright ribbon it hung from around her throat, the braid having been decided upon as a lost cause. It glowed there at the hollow between her collarbones, half the size of Waka's fist and without a voice he could catch.

The goddess caught his questioning look at the noiseless bell and smiled, fingertips rising to touch its' polished surface. "It's a holy bell," she explained cheerfully. "It's supposed to be for chasing evil away, but this is the Celestial Plain. We haven't had any evil here for as long as I can remember. But only evil is supposed to hear it ringing."

Waka supposed that made sense. If it meant that he could remain in this girl's company for a while longer, he was happy remaining deaf to the thing. After that, it was only a matter of checking the shadows for what the crow-kami had called her 'Instrument'. The light from the green flames that curled around the scarlet-enameled disc gave it away, and soon it spun lazily from a place in empty air, for all the world like a rope had been strung across the goddess' chest to keep it lying stretched across her back.

It hardly escaped his notice that already the clothes that he and the goddess wore had dried already—nor did the fact that her hair was a pristine banner flowing behind her.

But fast on the heels of that realization came a winsome, winning smile from the goddess, as she tucked her hands behind her and leaned forward playfully. "A game is always more fun with more people," she told the youth in utter sincerity. "Do you want to join us? Windfoot promised that she'd start out a little slower until you got the hang of it."

"It looked like a simple game of 'chase me'," Waka ventured. "That isn't a hard game."

Windfoot, the rabbit-kami, crossed her arms and pouted. "It isn't 'chase me'," she informed him. "It's 'follow me'. You're supposed to go where I go."

He was torn between his duty to the ship he was supposed to be watching and the patient smile waiting in front of him. "I should really be getting back…" he began, trailing off as his damsel's face fell. Inwardly he heaved a sigh; should any of his peers back home hear about what he was about to do, he'd never hear the end of it.

And that was what decided him. He had always been different, why not be different and enjoying himself? "All right."

He was willing to swear that the sunbeams shining through the canopy grew brighter as his damsel caught him by the hand. Then there was nothing in his head at all but the need to keep up with that bouncing curtain of gleaming, glowing white, and a giggling little rabbit that was always just a few feet ahead.

———

It was a very contrite goddess that accompanied him, several hours later, back to where he was supposed to have met the envoy whose place he was taking. She _still_ hadn't given him her name, but by now she didn't really need to. It had been the Divine Instrument that had really told him her identity, as well as the elaborate robes he'd helped her put back on less than half an hour before.

Robes that she had complained about mightily, but now wore as lightly as though they were feathers.

As they walked together back to the ship he had arrived on, Waka heard whispers rising from all around them. From the citizens of the Plain, the Celestials who were the spirits of nature and as peace-loving as they came, the whispers were soft, surprised, but not unhappy. From the greater gods scattered throughout the gentle Celestials, they were darker rumbles of displeasure aimed at him.

That was when the beautiful maiden smiled up at him and caught his hand in hers. Waka stopped caring about the whispers altogether as a rush of unconditional love poured into him at that touch, finding all the frozen corners in his heart and softening them as nothing had ever done before. It was at that moment he decided that no matter what, he would be hers to command.

She led him to the shrine entrance where the retiring ambassador waited with the god Waka had met earlier. His predecessor's face was slack in shock, while the god wore a satisfied smile that did nothing to warm his eyes. Those golden discs thawed only for the maiden walking beside Waka, as the elegant, horned head dipped into a bow of deep respect.

"Ah, Amaterasu-o-kami. I rather suspected you'd find our stray ambassador. How many pieces did you have to put back on?" rumbled the god, while the retiring ambassador hastily found his jaw and snapped it back where it belonged.

Although he'd half-suspected it, Waka still had to swallow at the thought that the goddess of the sun, the daughter of the first male god Izanagi, was currently attached to his arm and beaming at the other god. It was just so hard to picture a divine princess chasing rabbits, even immortal ones.

Said goddess was, as previously noted, currently grinning happily at the taller god, who looked enough like her to be related. "I didn't have to reattach anything, Yomigami," she replied with perfect cheer. "He even almost caught Windfoot."

One graceful arc of an eyebrow rose at that. "Indeed? Then his is indeed an auspicious start. Not everyone can claim to be able to keep up with a child of Yumigami." Yomigami ran eyes over his princess and obviously stifled a chuckle. "I see you've given your jewelry to the crows again. I'll ask Tachi if she and the Hanagami trio can distract your handmaidens."

Amaterasu winced. "Thank you, Yomi. Four lectures in a week about the proper use of royal adornments is a little much."

"It is the price of generosity," Yomigami told her, not unkindly. "Now then, back to business. Sir Wawku, your service in the role of ambassador had been all that we could have hoped for from such an august personage as yourself. Please take our thanks back to your rulers for granting us your time and energy."

Waka concentrated on the flowering, fluffy phrasing and picked at it like a bird at the weavings. If he didn't know better, he'd say that Yomigami had, in the politest way possible, just said that Sir Wawku had been a hopeless idiot in his job. Sir Wawku replied, in the same diplomatic language, that he was happy to shake the dust of this place from his boots, goodbye, good riddance and yours is the only presence I shall miss, Amaterasu-o-kami.

The ambassador gave them a sharp bow that was just deep enough for courtesy—and a deeper, more sincere bow to a smiling Amaterasu—and then boarded the smaller ship that would take him back to the Moon. It would return in a year for Waka, so that he could report in person to his superiors.

Yomigami waited until the smaller vessel was well in the air before he dusted his hands together and really _looked_ at Waka for the first time. "So, young Tribesman," rumbled the Brush god of Rejuvenation, "what do you think so far?"

Waka took a long moment to reply. "I think, honorable Yomigami, that I will be far happier here than I could have imagined."

He was clapped on the back with a coughing laugh, and was led away by the two gods. "Excellent. I do believe you will do just fine. Now, if our pretty Amaterasu would be so good as to sneak back home before Izanagi-o-kami notices that his daughter is missing again, I will show you to your quarters…"

—————

Amaterasu ends up making Waka hold his breath a lot, doesn't she?

Little blue button. Clickie-clickie. _—grin—_


	6. Falling Down

Hallo! More Okami-goodness, once more set before the game. This is Amaterasu's view, the day that Orochi came for a little visit. There's only a brief mention of Waka, for a change, but it was necessary.

—————

This wasn't how things were supposed to go.

The Celestial Plain was supposed to be inviolate.

_Snap! Kra-kow!_

Her people were supposed to be able to live their lives in peace.

_"You think you can best _me_, little goddess?"_

Her breath came shorter as her blood burned hotter in her fury. How _dare_ this monster, this beast that called himself Orochi, how _dare _he attack her people! How dare he leave her companions broken and bloody around him as he devoured the gentle Celestials and wrecked the landscape!

And most of all, how _dare_ he use dark magic to protect his evil-drenched hide!

_Crash! Wham!_

The barrier that sheer outrage was letting her wound him through. Her companions, the other twelve gods that were known collectively as the Brush Gods, were using their techniques to distract the beast as best as they could.

"Mutated excuse for an eel! Your mother was a hagfish and your father was a worm!"

Dark amusement twisted her lips at the outraged howl that flung insult brought. Hit a nerve, had she? A mouth full of razor-edged, begrimed fangs came rushing for her. She unshouldered her weapon, her trusted Solar Flare, and used the flat of the disc to deliver a hefty blow to the incoming muzzle.

Orochi reared back, screeching. That one had apparently hurt.

There had been another fighting by her side an eternity ago. The Tribesman Waka had flung himself into the battle with hardly a pause, but she'd sent him away as the only one alive who could pilot the metal ship called Yamato's Ark. He hadn't wanted to leave her, but he'd understood that he was the only one who could take the peaceful Celestials to safety. So he'd left.

She hoped he'd gotten clear.

The bell around her throat was ringing madly as she fought, making Orochi shake his eight heads in distracted irritation. That was what he got when he was fighting someone armed with holy weapons. Amaterasu pursued every advantage she could, driving the mountain of a body back to the very edge of the Plain. She'd run out of talismans an age ago, her vengeance slips and her exorcism slips, burned away to protect herself and those around her. Her enchanted _sake _was long since gone, the jars discarded once they'd been emptied.

The only thing keeping her on her feet and in any shape to fight was the necklace of prayer beads around her neck, the only gift she had of her mother. She thanked the sun for it with every blow that broke through her defenses.

A crumbling noise reached her ears as Orochi edged back again from her onslaught. The edge of the Plain had been reached, and now the monster teetered just a hair from falling.

Up came Amaterasu's Brush, circle-and-slash, circle-and-slash, until three large fireworks-bombs rolled into existence against the rocky belly. Half a heartbeat later another three joined them, courtesy of the god of Cherry Bomb, Bakugami. Orochi caught the scent of gunpowder, bringing the nearest heads around to search for the sudden odor, while the head crowned with the symbol of Fire narrowed eyes that glowed scarlet at the slender goddess facing him.

_"You have tried this before, little sunface."_

"Not like this," she replied, several yards away now. Three Bombs sat at her feet, making those hate-filled eyes widen. Her foot swung back even as her Instrument came whistling down. An acrobatic spin launched those three Bombs into the six whose fuses were already burning down.

The explosion rocked the entire skyborne island that the gods called home. Orochi was flung back into the air with an eight-throated roar that put the scream of the Bombs to shame. Amaterasu howled in reply, running to the edge and launching herself into empty air.

One head, the one crowned with Poison, hissed as it saw her plunging after it. _"What are you up to, pathetic weakling?"_

"I'm not letting you get away so easily!" Solar Flare was switched with her sturdy Lightning Edge glaive and she used her Brush to paint a trail from it to the falling monster. Yellow light snarled through the air to slam into the mockery of a shrine on the stone back. Orochi screamed in startled pain—joined a second later by the higher voice of Amaterasu.

The world that they were dropping to couldn't handle her divinity as it was. Her light was too bright, her godly beauty too great. She would tear the world apart if she landed as she was now.

And so it changed her.

Her long white hair, stained here and there with blood, became a pelt softer than rabbit fur. Her limbs became the legs and paws of a wolf. Her triangular face shaped into a strong, elegant muzzle full of sharp white teeth. All that stayed the same was the gold of her eyes, as the transformation finished sweeping through her bones.

Amaterasu's new tail spun crazily behind her to correct her balance as she landed with a thump and a scrabble of new, ebony claws onto the mountainous body of her foe. Some of Orochi's heads were laughing to see her—not Fire, never clever Fire—until she bared those pretty fangs of her own and sank them through the thinning barrier into acid-tasting scales beneath.

Orochi roared his fury. Amaterasu replied with her own, a long howl that echoed through the air around them. A head slammed into her side, sending her flying into the side of a cliff as Orochi's massive body splashed into a huge lake, sending up a tsunami of water. It swallowed huge chunks of the cliff-side and swept the stunned Amaterasu away into cold, wet darkness…

———

"I told ye, ye can't have 'er!"

Amaterasu woke with a start and on autopilot at the desperate cry, up and barreling into the clay soldiers that were some of Orochi's stronger infantry before she even remembered what was going on. They were fading stems of flowers before her brain kicked back into something besides 'kill' and she had the thought to look around.

An older human man, smelling strongly of fish and water, sat where he'd been knocked over by her rush, a broken branch less than a foot from one supporting hand. He was staring at her in a mixture of awe and fear that quickly turned to irritation when she shook a few gallons of water out of her new fur.

"Fine thanks I get," he grumbled to the white wolf standing so calmly on the sand in front of him. He still couldn't believe that she'd just wiped out half a dozen monsters in less time than it took for him to gut a fish. "Next time, I'll leave ye in th' water, see if'n I don't."

_:I notice you didn't say you'd leave me to the demons:_ Amaterasu tried to say. She could hear her voice in her head, but all that came out of her mouth was a wry bark that was accompanied by a brief wag of her tail.

That was okay. He seemed to understand her anyway, since he slapped his leg and let out a huff of laughter. "Too right, too right! Now help me up, ye great beastie, since ye're the one what knocked this poor ol' man over."

Willingly Amaterasu padded over and allowed him to use her fur as a handhold to aid him to his feet. She stayed next to him as she surveyed the place she found herself in—until she heard a roar of triumph that was all too familiar coming from a cave on a tiny spit of land nearly half a mile away across the water.

In a flash she was bounding over the water on a series of lily pads that existed only for the heartbeat that her paws were on them, upper lip peeled away from her fangs and furred ears pressed tight against her head. The shout of dismay from the fisherman went unheeded as she found purchase once again on dry land and set herself into a sprint.

There were shouts up ahead, the screams of the dying and those who wished they were. Amaterasu bolted up a series of stairs that showed heavy damage and burst into a wide open space of carnage.

Men, dressed in the eclectic style of wandering heroes, had come to raise their blades against Orochi. Amaterasu had no idea how long she'd been unconscious in the water, but it must have been at least a day for this many men to gather from farther places.

It was a pity that they were so outmatched.

One vanished down Orochi's gullet as Amaterasu's paws scrabbled over cold stone, bounding leaps carrying her over the broken bodies of those who hadn't yet been subjected to the same fate. Her howl of challenge was met by a roar from the beast, the goddess-turned-wolf sparing a fraction of a second for a curse at the orange-red glow that limned every plate-sized scale.

_:I abandon you for less than a day and you already have your barrier up again, bait-for-brains?:_ Amaterasu demanded, dodging a gust of wind and latching onto the soft part of Water's throat, just below the chin. The barrier kept her from sinking her fangs into evil flesh, but it didn't stop her from cutting off his air.

_"Foolish goddess:_ hissed Fire, swinging his head around to face her, not even paying attention to the would-be-hero hacking at the base of his neck. _"You should have had the sense to stay drowned."_

Amaterasu replied with a phrase that she'd learned from hot-tempered Gekigami and bit down harder. Water yelped and slammed her into the stone floor of the cave that Orochi had taken up residence in.

The last of the heroes fell to another of the eight heads, leaving Orochi and Amaterasu the only living things left in the cavern. The goddess sent a prayer after the fallen men's spirits and continued her fight against her hated enemy.

———

Hours later, Amaterasu limped out of the cave, exhausted and worn from her continued battle. Orochi's laughter echoed in her head, but it was a weak thing, for the serpent was just as weary as she. She was unable to dent the accursed barrier he had around him—for he guarded the bell that was his weak point more zealously now that she knew of it—and he was unable to do more than bruise her, thanks to the necklace that had become a comfortable collar around her throat.

Standoff.

Wishing that wolves could cry, Amaterasu took the same route that she'd used to come to Orochi's new home, hoping to find the man from before and cursing herself for leaving him alone. She wanted a place to sleep and food—oh, please, _food_—before she fell over.

The man appeared at the first sound of paw on sand, that same branch from their meeting raised in his gnarled hands. It hit the beach with a thud when he dropped it to rush to her side, running his palms over her fur in disbelief. "Yer alive!" he gasped, cupping her jaw and looking into her face. "I'd thought ye dead fer sure!"

Knowing that he couldn't hear her, she whined instead, a heartbroken noise that told him of her utter frustration at being quite unable to kill the monster. She was given a friendly ear-rubbing and was encouraged to follow by her new friend as he walked back over the crest of the beach and out of sight. With nothing else to do, she did.

There was a hut down at the end of the narrow beach, or what was left of one. Orochi's tsunami had not been kind to aged wood. Fortunately, here at least was something that Amaterasu could fix. It was odd, using her tail-tip instead of an actual brush, but the divine ink was still the same, and Yomigami's technique of Restoration worked nicely on the battered hut. She waited politely by the repaired door while the fisherman gaped his amazement, her stomach rumbling fiercely at the scent of fresh fish soup wafting invitingly from inside.

"Really ain't no ordinary wolf, are ye?" was the man's mutter to himself as he went inside. Amaterasu poked her head through the opening, barked once to approximate the usual apologies, and padded inside.

Her new friend was already serving up two portions of the soup that was making Amaterasu's nose twitch; he set her bowl down on the rough wooden floor and grinned at the way she dug in despite the temperature. "By th' way, lass, my name's Genji. Guess I'll just call ye 'lass' fer now, eh?"

She barked her agreement, then lifted her head to listen to the rain that began pouring down on the thatch. It sounded like it was going to be a wet night.

————

Still working on getting Ammy's wake-up to sound right. It's not cooperating.


	7. Reunion in Agata

—_grumbles about writer's block—_ Amaterasu's awakening refuses to be written. Nyarg. Anyway, this one's been sitting on my computer for almost a month now, waiting for a piece at the end to be finished. I ended up tabling it for now; put it in somewhere else once I beat it and my lazy Muse into cooperating again.

Sorry, Ripply. Waka just won't keep his nose out of these things. Kicking him out doesn't work, I tried. Ammy just gets sulky, which just sets my own Muse into a sulk, and everyone ends up grumpy and not talking to me. n,.,n! I guess we're stuck with him…

Aaaanyway, enough of my grumping! This is the fun moment where Ammy actually gets to kick Waka's butt for being overly mysterious the last however-many-times you beat the game.

—————

Amaterasu panted happily as she trotted out of the tunnel hidden behind Agata Forest's waterfall. Issun was chattering excitedly in her ear about the latest Guardian Sapling's restoration, but she was simply happy that the cursed zone was no longer an acrid stench in her nose. She was looking forward to meeting the people of the forest, to see how things had changed in the hundred years that she had spent as an enshrined statue, and it was impossible to do things like that when the evil cursed zones had turned everyone in them into stone.

Golden eyes took note of the series of islands gathered at this end of Agata's lake, crinkling at the corners in delight at seeing how high the trees had grown in the hundred years she'd spent slumbering within a stone statue of her wolf-shape. Back then, they were little more than saplings—maybe only a dozen feet at best for the oldest. Now the trees soared above them to fifty or a hundred feet.

Not wanting to bother with the tiny footpath that led away from the Sapling's cave back to Madame Fawn's beach, Amaterasu leaped through the rushing downpour of the waterfall, ignoring the indignant splutters of her companion. He was the one who didn't like getting wet—Amaterasu just hated bathing.

"What was that for, furball?" demanded the tiny artist, bouncing onto the end of her nose in the middle of a red glow. Then he noticed that the larger islands beyond them and his mood turned back around. "Hey, good idea, Ammy! There might be some treasure out here that nobody's found."

Amaterasu rolled her eyes as her friend resumed his place between her ears. _:Honestly, Issun, is treasure and pretty girls everything you ever think about?:_

"You bet, fuball," laughed Issun, resuming his place between her ears. His companion huffed her irritation with him and padded across the circle of solid ground towards the next oversized stepping-stone. It was an easy hop across the thin ribbon of water that ran between them, and she made it with little effort.

_:You might think about painting:_ she offered as her paws touched down on the second mini-island. _:That one of Sakuya was lovely.:_

"No way," was the flat reply. "I'll paint when I want to, and I'd rather think about babes and loot, thank you very much."

_:Suit yourself:_ sighed Amaterasu. The sound of a flute drifted to her ears, pricking them forward at the haunting, half-familiar sound. Had she heard that flute before? She let her eyes drift shut even as her ears swiveled, listening to the music as she sought out the source of it. It was coming from…above?

"Hark!" called a man's voice as the flute's song ended. Amaterasu and Issun tilted their heads back and back until they could see the tops of the nearest trees. "The call of the heavens, the earth, the sea…They summon me forth to defeat evil!"

_:What in the world?:_ Amaterasu wondered 'aloud', spotting the owner of the voice near the very top of one of the trees. He was dressed rather oddly, his hakama a soft purple and his kimono a rich pink. On his feet were some of the tallest wooden sandals she'd ever seen, stained a bright red. And on his head was a half-helm shaped like an eagle with a priest's cap, with banners of silk trailing from it shaped like wings and colored a light pink. The ends of the 'feathers' were tipped a darker shade, something like a red that had been washed out until the color had faded.

The man posed against the sunlight that poured from the skies behind him, sky-blue eyes holding some depth of emotion that Amaterasu couldn't put a finger—err, paw on. "Waka, the gods' gift to man, is here! _Bonjour_!"

Issun snorted from his seat between the snowy ears in disbelief. "What's up with that guy?"

_:I'm not sure:_ Amaterasu replied, feeling her lost memories poking her as they jumped up and down excitedly and pointed up at this newest arrival in her life. _:I think…:_

Above them, Waka tapped him chin with his flute as he gazed down on them. "That crimson shading and Divine Instrument on your back…" his mouth quirked into a smile. "You look kinda weird, but I reckon you pack a punch, baby."

_:Baby?:_ Insulted, Amaterasu flattened her ears against her head. _:Don't call me that!:_

Issun chimed in, his aura's glow taking on a reddening hue. "Hey! Think you're so special way up there, huh? Get down here and talk face to—?" Both he and his companion paused, startled, as what Waka had said sank in. "Wait, did he say crimson shading? Ammy, can he see your true form!?"

Still wearing that strange smile, Waka dropped from his perch to land with utmost grace on the water's surface. A soft glow flared up from the ripples made by his sandals, sending his helm's 'wings' mantling around him. Amaterasu watched him, rather impressed at the way he controlled his own energies and those of the things around him. It took quite a lot of practice and skill to do what he was doing.

Her admiration vanished quickly when he lifted his flute level with his face and passed his hand along it. A pale blue light followed his hand, until he held a katana whose blade was formed purely from that light.

"Hey! He drew a sword!" shouted Issun, aura glowing brighter in his surprise.

"_Oui_," Waka told them grimly. "This is how I get my point across, pun intended. The moment the cursed zone started spreading across Nippon, I saw the shadowy figure that removed the sacred sword Tsukuyomi flee into Kamiki Village and seal the entrance with a huge rock. You guys know anything about that?"

_:I was asleep until well after the cursed zone appeared:_ Amaterasu growled, hackles rising. _:And your language, I think, has not prospered wherever it is you've been.:_

"You tell him, Ammy!" cheered Issun, hopping madly in place. "This guy gives me the creeps. Better keep your eye on him!" The world dropped a few inches underneath him, making his next landing less graceful than it could have been. Issun looked down to find his friend in her battle-crouch, teeth bared and growl thundering from deep in her chest. "Huh? Ammy, you getting all worked up _again_!?"

_:You speak so boldly, Tao Master: _Amaterasu called to the man standing only a few yards away. _:Come and back up your proud words!:_

"_Magnifique_!" sighed Waka happily. "I wouldn't have it any other way!" He dropped into a stance of his own, sword humming a glowing path as he swung into a guard position. "Now you shall get an earful of my beloved sword! Behold, Pillow Talk! Let's rock, baby!"

Amaterasu lunged forward, shouting, _:I told you not to call me that!: _as Issun whooped from between her ears.

———

The fight was brief but intense, consisting of Amaterasu doing a lot of dodging to avoid a glowing-hot copy of Waka's sword, using her Brush to Power-slash it back into his face, and giving him a thorough drubbing with her most recent acquisition, the Divine Instrument called the Life Beads. Waka, in turn, managed to land a blow or two of his own, but they were few and far between.

After several minutes, Waka got himself out of easy range and let his sword transform back into an ordinary-looking flute. Tapping it against his shoulder, he told his opponent, "It's been quite some time since I've tasted your power, Amaterasu. That's enough for now."

Mid-lunge the white wolf stopped, head tilting sideways in her surprise. Issun bounced off onto the ground, glowing bright red and swinging his own diminutive katana in quick circles. "Too late now!" he crowed. "You're the one who picked the fight!" His glow flickered from red to green once or twice and steadied once again on its normal emerald hue, tiny blade paused. "Hey, wait! You know this guy, Ammy?"

_:I believe so, once:_ Amaterasu replied, sitting down and curling her tail over her paws. _:His manners used to be better, I think. I'm not sure, I've been asleep so long everything's still a muddle.:_

Waka chuckled ruefully, shaking his head at himself. "Well, that _was_ pretty tactless," he admitted. "_Excuse-moi_, baby."

_:How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?:_

Issun caught the definite hints of a grin as Waka cleared his throat. "You see, I was looking into that cursed zone that struck this area. It consumed all in its path, even the light of the sun." His voice dropped. "It is the curse of Orochi, the legendary eight-headed serpent!"

The tiny artist gulped. "O-Orochi?"

Amaterasu's ears flicked when the wind blew darker for a moment, shaking loose stray leaves into a brief shower. Waka's visage darkened in turn at the unsettling omen. "Do not utter that name without reason," he told Issun grimly, turning to pace. "That alone could curse the weak of mind. Orochi was slain one hundred years ago by Nagi and Shiranui, and its evil spirit was sealed away in the Moon Cave, which I guarded. You know, that cave in the middle of the lake over on Shinshu Field? But someone has gone and freed Orochi by removing Tsukuyomi. The beast's evil has caused a cursed zone to cover these lands." Almost to himself, the warrior added softly, "I never thought the sacred sword would be so easily removed…" Waka raised his voice again. "Whoever did it waited till I was back in the capital. It seems things are afoot that even I did not prophesize!"

He turned back to them to see the effect his words had had, and nearly fell over when he found Amaterasu drowsing in a curl of snowy fur. _:Mmmh, Waka, did you always talk this much?:_

"We're way ahead of you, pretty boy!" Issun told the apparent prophet gleefully, hopping back to Amaterasu and thumping against her shoulder to try to rouse her. The wolf only grumbled and curled herself tighter, tucking her tail over her nose. "We've been busy dispelling the curse left and right! That Orochi's gonna be mincemeat when we're through with it!"

A real smile grew on full lips. "So, you're the ones who've revived the trees in this area…But a lot of time's passed since Orochi's return. You'd better pick up the pace, _ma chérie_."

_:It's been less than four days. You do better:_ grumped the wolf in reply.

Issun was a bit more vocal. "_What!?_"

The smile shifted into a teasing smirk. "I'm sorry to say, our battle just now was a big disappointment. You're not what you used to be, Amaterasu. You may have defeated Orochi long ago, but…" he let out a soft huff of laughter, "One cannot dwell on past glories. You have weakened greatly in your century of slumber."

That won him an irritated ear flick. _:I didn't move for a hundred years. What's your excuse?:_

Her tiny companion was far more displeased. His aura was a bright, angry red once again as he bounced frenetically from a place about a foot from Amaterasu's nose. "That's enough!" shouted Issun furiously. "Now tell me about that shadowy figure you saw fleeing to Kamiki! How do we know it wasn't you!?"

"Relax, my little bouncing friend." Waka began to turn away, only to stop. "Oh, I almost forgot! I have a little prophecy for you. I can see into the future, you know." He spun into a dramatic pose, declaring, "I foresee a log and big thrills! You'll know what I'm talking about when the time comes!" He dropped out of the pose and turned again, tucking his flute into his sash. "Anyway, I must be off. The work of a prophet is never done. _Au revoir_, baby."

Issun watched him as the man leaped impossibly high into the air, landing on a tree limb and disappearing through the canopy. "What a freak!" he growled as he hopped over and started jumping on Amaterasu's head. "Who the heck does he think he is! Hey, wake up, Ammy! We got work to do!"

_:Five more minutes?:_

"No! Up on those paws, you lazy furball! Move!"

With a resigned sigh, Amaterasu got to her feet and shook her fur back into place. _:I know he's a little odd, Issun, but why are you so worked up over Waka?:_

"Because he drives me nuts! Didn't you hear him!? Accusing _us_ of being the ones who turned that eight-headed monster loose again! The nerve! When _he_ could have done it, easy!"

_:No:_ Amaterasu told him firmly, leaping over the thin ribbon of water to the next island. _:Waka would never set that overgrown, mutated eel free. I know that much.:_

Issun calmed down enough to take his normal seat between her ears, though his aura still flickered red. "I still don't like him. And where does he get off, complaining that you're not up to snuff yet? You only just woke up, right? It takes a bit to blow the dust off."

_:Well, look at it this way, Issun. He's the one that lost.:_

————

Yup, I figured that Issun can hear her by now. Mostly because it's more fun that way.

Got prompts?


	8. NotsoQuiet Comeback

Okay, so the Muse hasn't entirely abandoned me…n,.,n!

Set ten years after the end of the game.

—————————

Nushi stared at the base of Sakuya's tree in utter surprise. His parents had sent him up here to keep him from getting underfoot during this year's Festival preparations under the guise of telling him to show Sakuya how much he'd learned this week. His father had been teaching him how to use a sword for a year now, and it had been two since Nushi's favorite person, Issun, had come to Kamiki. Six years since Nushi had been born.

Ten years since his father had kicked big scaly monster butt alongside the other hero of their village, the goddess Amaterasu. Ten years since the goddess had been seen boarding some big metal ship with a man that Issun-ji-san didn't like much, to defeat the greatest threat ever to Nippon and the Light.

It frustrated Nushi to no end. How was he supposed to be like his father, Susano, or like his ancestor Nagi, if he didn't have a goddess pretending to be a wolf running by his side?

But that, at the moment, was forgotten for the sight that met his eyes.

A man was slumped amongst Sakuya's roots, an eagle-faced half-helm pushed down to shade his face. Faded pink banners hung from the sides of the thing, mingling with the worn, pale pink kimono and violet hakama that covered moon-pale skin. A pair of battered sandals with the highest soles Nushi had ever seen lay discarded nearby, their color a red as faded as the rest of the man.

Curled up beside him, head in the man's lap, was the biggest dog Nushi had ever met in his life. He could tell it was a girl, and she had fur whiter than snow or clouds that practically glowed in the sunlight. The white was only broken by the black tip of her tail and the bright red markings that trailed along her muzzle, towards her forehead and down her back to swirl along her flanks.

Strangers! Really _weird_ looking strangers.

Well, as defender of the village, there was only one thing to do. Nushi brandished his wooden sword and demanded, "Who're you?!"

———

_Izanagi, He Who Rules All,_ sighed Waka to himself, shoved out of dreaming by the high-pitched demand, _is a thirty-minute nap after ten years of clean-up really too much to ask?_ They'd only just returned from the Celestial Plain, at the insistence of the goddess asleep beside him. She'd wanted to see at least _one_ Kamiki Festival that didn't involve Orochi or Orochi's resurrection in any way, shape, or form; they'd spent the ten years after Yami's defeat restoring her homeland, she'd argued. Didn't that mean they deserved a break?

Like Waka was going to argue with her. The Celestials and kami that had been left during the long occupation of the Lord of Darkness' forces were traumatized still; a brief time away from them to regain his own equilibrium would be welcomed.

But honestly, this was the second time in an hour that they'd had their well-earned nap interrupted. The first one was a sleeping mote of dim green light against the white-and-red fur between Amaterasu's ears. Issun, at least, Waka would forgive for waking them. The Poncle artist had been nearly out of his mind with joy when he'd found them purely by chance here.

He'd said something about convincing Sakuya to pose for him after he'd calmed down a bit. Waka had tuned him out at that point in self-preservation of his sanity.

Pushing up the beak of his helm, Waka squinted in the bright sunlight towards the source of the newest interruption. _Child,_ his sleep-muddled brain registered. _Young, wooden sword, thick eyebrows, beady eyes…Oh, no. There's another one? Kami, tell me the stubborn idiot didn't _spawn_ another of his ilk…_

But there was no doubting who this child belonged to. Waka let his helm slide back over his eyes and let his head drop back against Sakuya's sun-warmed trunk. "Your turn, _ma_ _chérie_," he grumbled, firmly closing his eyes again.

Beside him, he felt his beloved stir.

———

Nushi stared as the dog uncurled a little, ears flattening against her skull as her jaws cracked in a yawn.

That wasn't a dog.

That was a _wolf_.

A really, _really_ big one.

Golden eyes blinked open, uncanny intelligence dimmed a little by sleep focusing on him. She huffed, ears flicking back. Curled her upper lip into a half-hearted snarl. _:Shoo.:_

Nagi tore down the path towards his father's hut, forgetting things like swords and practice and everything else. The wolf had _talked_! "DAAAAAAAAADDY!"

———

Amaterasu settled her head down on her paws with an internal grumble, Issun sitting up on her head, his nap as interrupted as theirs. "Man, I told ya, furball. Should have just gone to Hana Valley for your snooze." He snuggled back down into her fur, happy beyond all words or his skills in painting to express that his best friend was in his life again. "Oh, well. Get ready for the cavalry to show up."

The goddess sighed wistfully beneath him. _:Five more minutes?:_

—————

Issun-ji-san: affectionate, 'uncle' or 'old man' Issun.

Izanagi: Amaterasu's father.


	9. Fireflies

Probably not up to my usual standards, but darn it, I wanted to write something for Okami. Still trying to get through writer's-block and a case of work-related burn out, but at least my writing hasn't come to a total halt. Thanks for making this my most visited and widely-read story ever!

**Twilightm00n**: still got your prompts. They're sorta percolating in the back of my head. By which I mean they're hanging out there making faces at me. n,.,n! Thanks for reviewing!

And thanks to everyone who's got this story alerted or faved! You lead me to interesting new fics. Also, apologies for all reviews that I have not answered. Poke me or something, I'll send you a PM with one.

Disclaimer: Do not own Okami except for copies of the game and an artbook. Want the sound-track. Must get.

Summary: A brief moment between Kusa Village and tracking down the rest of the Canine Warriors.

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The fireflies were beautiful as they courted the reflections of stars on the surface of the Deeps. The soft motes of yellow danced slow waltzes around their still partners, flickering their longing in voiceless pleas for attention.

Waka sighed and put his shallow cup on the ground, deciding that he'd had enough to drink if he was turning poetically maudlin. Pity, though; it was a particularly fine vintage, one that he'd gotten from the descendant of a brewer he'd known ages ago. But he needed to stop if he was superimposing his feelings onto hapless and unsuspecting insects.

Propping his chin in the palm of one hand, the prophet looked out across the waters of the Deep, restored less than a handful of days ago by the source of his longing. She had been beautiful at that moment, bathed in the dual glow of starlight from skies and waters, gazing at the reflection of a moon that had sat nowhere amongst the glittering throng above.

He wondered now if she knew how much he was really watching her. His goddess of the sun, his dearest companion. A century ago the answer would have most certainly been 'yes'. But that was a hundred years ago, and she had been far more than she was now. The faith that people had in the gods had diminished in the last one hundred years, despite his and Ishaku's best efforts, and nowhere was that loss plainer than in the shape of Amaterasu.

It was like looking at a stream where there had once been an enormous river. The stream was quite beautiful—still breath-stopping in that first glimpse—but the marks of what had been was still clear for those who had the eyes to see. And no one had the eyes to see if Waka did not. He remembered the way her fur had shone like a beacon, instead of the soft, comforting light of a candle at the window. The way that her divinity had wreathed her in long tendrils, where there were no tendrils now.

And yet…and yet his goddess was not truly unhappy. Frustrated at the ways her fighting skills had atrophied, yes, and determined that she would rid Nippon of the accursed Orochi and his taint. But not unhappy.

And all he had to do to understand why was look at the way people treated her now in Kamiki. There was no fear amongst the villagers of that unlucky place for the white wolf that roamed amongst them at will. The offerings of food that had once been made in terror of reprisal were given freely now with pleasure; those who had been afraid to touch had been replaced by those who were generous with pettings and scratches.

And pretty Sakuya showered their beloved goddess with gifts with every new Sapling restored.

Such was the way everywhere the goddess went, with very, very few exceptions—and those who did not welcome the snow-white wolf were those who held no light in their hearts. Like that unsavory couple in Taka Pass that had tried to _eat_ her. (And how very close he had come to simply rending them with a few whispered nothings from his sword, Pillow Talk, for that insult! But she had simply barked playfully at the man and his wife and had pranced her way out of danger.)

Waka twitched from his musings at the sound of something soft hitting the ground at the edge of the island behind him. He half-turned where he sat by the Deeps Marker, one hand reaching casually for the flute tucked into his sash, to find Amaterasu poised to dodge from where she'd landed.

"_Ma chérie_?" the prophet blurted, incredulous. His hand fell away from the disguised shape of Pillow Talk to brace him as he turned further, hardly able to believe it.

Body language speaking of her uncertainty, Amaterasu tilted her ears back and forth, the soot-black tip of her tail waving a little. _:I've heard you calling,:_ her voice said into his head and heart, the voice that took faith to hear. _:So I came. Issun isn't here, he's asleep back at the Guardian Sapling. What's wrong?:_

"Wrong?" Waka blinked. "Why do you think anything is wrong?"

_:Well,:_ the goddess said, taking a hesitant paw-step forward, _:for starters, you're drinking. By yourself. I don't remember very much yet, but I do remember that you doing that is not a good sign.:_ Another paw-step. _:And I heard you calling. You've been doing it for days now, ever since you caught me by the waterfall. I just wasn't sure whose voice I was following until now.:_

"You heard me," the prophet repeated just to make sure he understood what she'd said. The muzzle dipped in a nod. "How?"

She sidled up until she could press her damp, ink-dark nose against his chest. _:From here. I could always hear you when you called from here. I heard your voice in my dreams.:_

Waka drew back, hand creeping to where her nose had rested over his heart. _Oh._ For all that he'd kept a smile on his face and a joke or witty barb ready on his tongue, his loneliness at being deprived of her company for a hundred years had still managed to escape the walls he'd erected around his heart. He'd thought that they had still been solid after so long without her, that day when he had found her in Agata, but…perhaps not.

Digging up one of those smiles he'd employed so well in the past, Waka picked up his small clay jug of rice wine and shook it a little in offering. "Care to watch the fireflies with me, Amaterasu?"

She gave him the same look she had given him a hundred years ago when he'd tried to distract her with something, anything to turn the subject of a conversation away from himself. It was dubious, mixed with a hint of suspicion and frustration at his stubbornness. And then her nose twitched when a playful breeze brought to her the scent of well-brewed _sake_.

_:Well…maybe for a little bit. I don't want Issun to wake up without me.:_ She settled herself gracefully on the ground beside him after giving him the look he knew meant that she had not forgotten what they had been talking about. But she was willing to allow the topic change to something that did not encroach on the battered walls surrounding a lonely heart. _:You shouldn't tease him so much,:_ she added absently as he brought out a spare, shallow cup and poured her a little of the rice wine.

He set the cup down in front of her, one eyebrow raised. "And why not, _ma chérie_? He shirks the path destiny has set for him so long as his brush is not put to paper."

Amaterasu considered the wine in front of her for a few moments. _:He'll make a good Celestial Envoy,:_ she said softly. _:But something's hurt him, and it wounds him to paint. He just refuses to tell me anything about it.:_ She delicately set her teeth to the cup and tilted her head back, _sake_ rolling down her throat.

Waka had never stopped being impressed by that little trick of hers. No Brushwork involved, and she had yet to spill a drop. "And so you coax him into his role, one step at a time," he guessed, rewarded by an agreeing flick of an ear. "Do you think he will be ready when it's time?"

Setting her cup down as delicately as she'd raised it, Amaterasu looked out across the glittering water. _:I don't know,:_ she replied after a long pause. _:But I have faith in him.:_

Her companion snorted softly into the depths of his own refilled cup. "Forgive me, dear one, but I find it ironic that it is the god that has the faith in the mortal."

The wolf's elegant tail whacked him on the hip as golden eyes gazed up at him in reproach. _:I have plenty who have faith in me,:_ she chided him, _:but he has only me. Let me be his source of faith, as you have always been mine.:_

Waka's drink promptly switched to the wrong pipe at that, sending the prophet into a fit of coughing as he thumped his chest with a fist. Eyes watering, he stared at the goddess giving him a wry, canine smile.

_I take it all back,_ he swore internally as he firmly put the _sake_ to one side. _She may not have the sheer power that was once hers, but she still sees more than I am comfortable with._ Out loud, the prophet told his companion, "Touché, Amaterasu."

Her tail waved slightly, but the goddess made no other reply but to turn her gaze to the waltzing fireflies. And there the two sat in silence for a while, the only noises that of night insects and the waterfall.

It was so very little, and yet Waka felt that old wound beginning to heal at last somewhere deep in his heart. He let out the softest sighs and relaxed back onto his hands, vaguely wishing that he dared to let the long rope of his hair free from underneath his helmet. And deciding not to, remembering just how long it would take to wash it back out again if he let it uncoil on the sandy ground.

Beside him Amaterasu let out a sigh of her own and let her body fall sideways until it fetched up against Waka's leg and stayed there. The prophet froze at the unexpected contact, heart thudding in his throat when her broad head settled on his knee with a contented murmur. _:Missed this…:_

"Amaterasu?"

She curled a bit closer, eyes drifting shut under the hand automatically put out to stroke her. _:Missed this,:_ she mumbled again. _:Everyone in Kamiki's too busy or too tired. Issun's too small. Susano's always running. Haven't chased off Crimson Helm yet, so the air in Kusa's still bad.:_ A pause. _:Little to the right?:_

Obediently, Waka shifted his hand to gently dig fingers into the spot behind her right ear, fireflies long forgotten as he refamiliarized himself with the texture of her fur. Amaterasu's voice was a quiet mumble in his head, a slow complaint that effectively boiled down to 'your lap's the most comfy'. A complaint that wound down into an unintelligible murmur, and then nothing, as her breathing deepened and slowed.

Waka heaved a purely internal sigh of resignation as he realized that Amaterasu had fallen asleep in his lap. "What happened to not wanting that stubborn Envoy of yours to wake up alone, _ma chérie_?" he asked deaf ears, without expecting an answer.

So he was surprised when she stirred a little, shuttered eyes opening enough to show a hint of golden fire. _:'ll go back inna minnit…:_

"Says the one all but asleep on my leg."

Amaterasu roused a little more, tilting her head sideways to gaze up at him. _:You needed the company more.: _She closed her eyes again. _:And, Waka? I'm sorry.:_

The hand still petting her stopped as the prophet aimed a bemused look down at his companion. "Sorry? What have you to be sorry for, dear one? It isn't your fault that our old enemy is up to his old tricks again."

_:I'm sorry that I left you alone like that. I promise, I won't do it again.:_ She heaved another sigh, and dropped into sleep.

After Waka had gotten his heart beating again, he leaned down and cupped the delicate muzzle in his hands as he pressed his lips to the spot right in the middle of her forehead marking. "The past is past, dear one," he murmured, leaning his forehead on hers. "Yes, I was lonely. But I knew you would come back. And what matters is that you are here now."

———

Issun had been awake for nearly half an hour, not that he was going to admit it. He'd woken when Ammy had left the cave of the Sapling, alerted by the lack of her warmth to her departure. But he hadn't said anything. He hadn't known Ammy long, but he knew that set of her ears and body already. He knew them as well as his own heartbeat.

Someone was in trouble and Ammy was going to go fix it. That she had gone without him meant that she was either reluctant to disturb him (likely), or it was someone that she didn't think he'd approve of (also likely).

Issun got his answer when a soft glow heralded her return—with that annoying half-baked prophet carrying her. Issun kept himself still in his little nest amongst the roots as Waka lowered the sleeping wolf to the ground, running a hand along her flank with an odd softness to his eyes. If the painter didn't know any better, he'd have bet Denkomaru that the jerk loved Ammy more than breathing.

"Goodnight, _ma chérie_," whispered Issun's number-one aggravation. "Pleasant dreams." And then he was gone in a flutter of silks, leaving the Poncle to sit up and prop his chin in his hand.

…Okay. So maybe he'd be willing to bet Denkomaru after all.

_Huh. He's still a jerk. Don't know what furball sees in him._

That settled, Issun rolled over and went back to sleep.

——————

Thank you for coming, and apologies for the long delay!


	10. Round Two

Right, who thought I'd abandoned this? I haven't, honest. Though I'm still not sure if I'm entirely happy with how this one turned out. But I figured everyone has waited more than long enough for another chapter, so here it is. Enjoy! n.n

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There are times when nothing seems to go as it should, as though the world itself has been set against you and its first warning is the tiny pebbles that precede the avalanche. Or perhaps it is quieter; the stones beneath your feet becoming damp before the water comes swirling around your ankles.

The master thief Hayazo decided, as he watched a white wolf traced with faint red markings prance away, that his kami-granted warning was a pair of gleeful golden eyes.

_And today had started out so well_, the thief mourned ruefully from his hiding place. It was a rock he'd hollowed out, quite big enough for one person if they didn't mind sitting for long periods, on the main path rimming the Commoners' Quarters in Sei-an City. It was, in fact, right next to a guard, as his prior hiding place of another hollow rock had been discovered by an inky black nose far too sharp for his taste.

But that was alright. The chubby tub of a guard had declared that he was going to try and catch clever Hayazo, and so the thief had chosen to test the man. And the guard had failed miserably.

The wolf had not.

It was a week now since the noxious fog that had made everyone ill had been dissipated. By what or who, nobody knew or was telling, but very quiet rumors were beginning to circulate that their cheerful (and also chubby tub) Emperor had been possessed by some demon.

Hayazo didn't care about that. He'd had more important concerns, like the strength that had returned with the banishing of the mist, and the fact that all of the major braziers in this quarter had burnt themselves out during the troubles and no one had relit them. So he had decided to celebrate the return of the city to normal by doing what he did and loved best: stealing.

A glass pocket-watch from a local samurai dandy was first. Then a charming hair-pin from that lovestruck idiot who _still_ hadn't said anything to the sake-merchant's daughter, even though anyone who didn't have _holes_ for eyes could see how far gone they were on each other. A bag of millet dumplings from a boy playing pretend—Hayazo noted in professional interest that it didn't matter how often he emptied the bag; the next time he reached in for a dumpling it was there. And the crowning piece, the mask from that new kid Abe on the Tao Troopers squad.

He knew it was cruel, but Hayazo couldn't help but enjoy thinking of how much Abe had to be squirming right now. _Should teach him to keep a better eye on his belongings, 'specially since I grabbed this thing right off his face._

Hayazo had been all set for another night of mischief...and then the wolf had showed up this afternoon. He'd seen it wandering around the city during the mist-troubles from where he'd been curled up in a miserable ball of ache in one of his several hiding places. The mutt hadn't seemed affected at all by the accursed stuff and had gone running around all over the place.

This afternoon—in much better health—he'd snuck around after it out of curiosity and to see if the pooch or its firefly companion had anything worth stealing. The answer, as far as he could tell when the wolf had gone to buy things at one of the merchant booths set up by the gate, was a resounding yes. But he hadn't dared get close because every time he even _thought_ about it, two snow-white triangles would start to tilt in his direction.

So he'd hung back and watched as it had gone over to the main brazier, the big one just a few yards away from said gate, and _looked_ at it. And gods strike him, but the wood that had been sitting in the stone bowl just waiting for a spark had burst into flames like some phoenix had decided that _that_ brazier, that one _right there_, would be perfect for a rebirth and it was going to do it right now, thank you, no applause necessary. And then the mutt had padded off.

An hour before dark and every single lantern and brazier in the district had been lit. At the last one, Hayazo had watched from his first hiding place in a rock a bit farther from the overconfident guard as the wolf had done its hoodoo to get the brazier lit. And then it had tilted its head back to _look_ up at the sky.

It had gone from an hour until full dark to a star-spangled black velvet sky in four seconds flat.

No joke. Moon out and everything.

Naturally, at that point Hayazo had been more than ready to find a new place to lay low for a while. But then the ink-black nose had turned towards him and he had been treated to another result of that _look_. He'd been punted out of his hiding place by some unseen force neat as you please.

Well, _he_ was the great Hayazo, master of thieves! And he wasn't going to let some bug-sized country hick with an accent thick enough to blunt a katana and some four-legged wanna-be sleuth beat _him_. There was the pride of city-folk everywhere to consider, and not to mention his own. He had a damned fine trick up his sleeve and he was going to use it.

Only...his vanishing trick hadn't worked nearly as well as he'd thought it would. Two steps and his clone had been obliterated by the same force that had shoved him out of hiding in the first place. Three steps had had him kissing pavement and several pounds heavier from being soaking wet.

What was an honorable thief supposed to do? He'd left the watch as the prize and had bailed, curling himself up in his second hiding place and watching the mutt pick the thing up with a delicacy that he hadn't realized wolves had to go return it.

And now he could see the wolf coming back, aiming straight for his new hiding place with the moon riding high and those burning golden eyes alight.

Some people choose to accept their changing futures with ready grace. In the capital city of Nippon, the greatest of thieves chose to prepare his next trick in answering challenge to the anticipation in a wolf's eyes, never realizing that he was placing himself in opposition to a great-god herself. Instead, his only irreverent thought at the time as he sprang into a dead run with his clones beside him was that it was time for Round Two.


End file.
